The Birthday Ball Read Online Free PDF

it."
    "I knew it! My mother finds them fascinating because they're attached together. But they're coarse and rude. They bicker continuously, and they belch, too, and reek! They never bathe because no tub fits them both at once."
    "Miss," the chambermaid asked timidly, "may I go, please? It's close to suppertime and I want to be there to watch the pulley boy."
    "The pulley boy. I suppose he's on your list of suitors?"

    "Oh, no, miss!"
    "Only joking. Go on. I'll see you in the morning. Be here early. I was late for school today. I want to arrive on time tomorrow."
    "Miss!" The chambermaid looked surprised. "You're going back?"
    The princess propped herself up against the pillows. "Of course I am. My first day as a peasant was the loveliest day I've ever had. I was not bored for a minute."
    "The schoolmaster's stern, though," the chambermaid pointed out.
    "A little. But handsome."
    The chambermaid wrinkled her face. " Handsome? No, miss. He ain't, not at all. He has a very fierce face."
    "Perhaps. But it appealed to me. Do you know his name, Tess? I asked him but he said we should all just call him Schoolmaster."
    Tess nodded. "It's a foreign name. Herr Gutmann. He's from far away. They say he come from a noble family."
    "That's odd," said the princess. "He said he was a peasant."
    "Not him, miss. Maybe he likes to pretend it."
    "He did wear shoes, now that I think about it."
    "Please, miss? It's time for me to go below-stairs."
    The princess laughed. "To see your pulley boy. All right, Tess. Run along."
    Tess closed the door to the bedchamber behind her. Through it, she heard the princess mutter, "Suitors, schmooters."

7. The Duke
    A warthog has large upcurled tusks, and Duke Desmond, being human, had none. He did, however, have huge, crooked, brown-spotted teeth, and a tuft of coarse copper-colored hair; the two features combined to make him resemble such an animal, so the princess was not inaccurate in her description.
    That his disposition was terrible was not surprising. In his defense, it must be said that any human who resembles a warthog is bound to be irritable and testy. His own parents had found it distasteful to look at Desmond when he was young, and when he was a child no other children had ever invited him to play. Such slights do affect one's personality.

    But Duke Desmond did have one attribute. He was immensely wealthy.
    Both of his parents had by now passed away, and Duke Desmond ruled the opulent principality of Dyspepsia and owned all of its wealth: oil wells, gold mines, and huge vineyards. The income from all of these came to Desmond. He spent it and spent it on clothes and playthings and trinkets and baubles, but it continued to come. And with the money and the title came power. He was a very powerful man.
    Such was his power that he had found a way to forget his own appearance. He had abolished not only all mirrors and looking glasses from Dyspepsia, but also any shiny object that might throw back a reflection. When he traveled, he did so accompanied by bodyguards and courtiers, some of whom went ahead to be certain that all such reflectors were removed from his presence.
    So Duke Desmond had found a way to forget what he looked like. He had begun to think of his appearance as pleasing, and the servants he hired had been trained to address him as they might address a handsome man.
    "How fine you look this morning, sir!" his manservant would proclaim upon drawing open the curtains of the sleeping chamber each day. Duke Desmond would yawn and stretch and then appear to smile. He never really smiled, but his huge protruding teeth made it impossible for him to close his lips.
    Years before, a previous manservant had foolishly suggested to the duke that he brush his teeth, but that unfortunate servant had been confined in the dungeon ever since. By now the teeth were mottled with decay and encrusted with plaque. Perpetual toothache was a further reason for the duke's bad disposition.
    No one dared suggest,