“He has his good days and he has his bad days,” said the prime minister to the Imperial ambassador. He was referring to the old King. The ambassador nodded but said nothing. They both looked at His Majesty who sat on his throne with his chin cupped in one hand. Suddenly a voice spoke from behind the two men. “And what sort of day is he having today?” It was GarGar.
“Wait and see. Judge for yourself,” was the prime minister’s curt reply.
When the chamberlain rapped the marble floor with his staff, the sound echoed through the entire hall, quashing all the chatter of the courtiers. “Her Most Royal Highness, Princess Pirouette!” He shouted. Pirouette entered the throne room. Her male attendants carried a white linen canopy over her head. In her hands she carried a bouquet of white lilies. With her wig, dress and pearls, she was a vision in white. Some of the courtiers gasped audibly when they saw her, bowing low as she passed them.
The King was suddenly sitting most erect on his throne. His eyes were fixed on Pirouette. “Come my dear,” he said, extending his hand for her to kiss.
“I’ll stay right here,” she replied. “I’m here to talk about what you call my wedding present. The old shed where I’m supposed to spend my honeymoon.”
“What? What?” The old King sputtered.
“I’m tired of being shuttle back and forth like some parcel that nobody wants. That castle where you were planning to send me is not fit for human habitation. I’m sure it’s a lovely home for bats, but I shall never set foot in the place until it is thoroughly renovated.”