Princess Pirouette reigned in her horse at the bottom of the hill. Surveying the condition of the rocky road before her, she decided to complete her journey on foot, rather than risk laming her mount. As she dismounted, a sigh of resignation rose from the party of knights and ladies who were attending her. “We shall walk up the hill to the castle,” was all she said.
Tata Sous-sus, who objected to walking any distances more than a dozen feet, waved her arms at one of the knights, indicating that she needed help to dismount. “Would it be too much, my dear, if I waited here?” She asked of Pirouette.
“Yes, it would be too much,” replied Pirouette tersely. “Far too much.”
When they reached the top of the hill, they rested. There before them was the castle where Pirouette and GarGar would spend their honeymoon. Pirouette was underwhelmed. It was rather small, as far as castles go. Great vines of ivy, like a green rash, covered much of the exterior, even to the point of blocking some of the windows. Leave it to Abigail Hoffenhoff to say, “I think the ivy is perfectly charming.”
“It’s definitely a fixer-upper,” muttered Tata who was doing her best to recover from the unaccustomed exercise of her chubby legs.
“Thank goodness we have time to renovate this disaster,” said Pirouette.