

When the news that le comte GarGar and Princess Pirouette would be joined in happy union reached the people of the capital, they poured en masse into the streets. Heartfelt toasts to the happiness of the royal pair were shared by friends and strangers alike. Although it was mid-day, bonfires were lit. Songs were sung and the citizens danced joyously in the market squares and the broad thoroughfares. It was a day of celebration.


While all this merry-making was being made, Princess Pirouette hid in her apartments in the palace, refusing to see anyone besides Abigail Hoffenhoff, her official dresser. Even Tata Sous-sus was forbidden entrance. When the old King himself came to her rooms to see what was amiss, she hid under her bedcovers and told Abigail, “Tell him I’m sick with a cough. That will keep His Majesty at bay.” And she was right, leaning on the arm of one of his footmen, the poor old soul shuffled back to his own bed, muttering unintelligible curses under his breath.
