“You Majesty! Look! Look out the window!” Abigail Hoffenhoff, out of breath, bounded into Queen Pirouette’s bedchamber. Gesticulating wildly, the Queen’s closest friend and confidante, unlatched the nearest window that looked onto the courtyard of the palace. “Wait!” She shouted. “Wait! The Queen!” Exhausted by her own emotions, Abigail broke into a series of coughs that shook her entire frame.
“What’s this?” Said one of the Queen’s other ladies in waiting. “As you can see, Her Majesty is in the middle of reading important state documents.” With pursed lips, the dower dowager shook her head and with an elegant gesture, moved her hand in Pirouette’s direction.
“Be that as it may, the Queen needs to see her fiancé right now…” Abigail paused to catch her breath. “Amirite?” She blurted out.
Dropping the magnifying glass that used to help her decipher the chicken scratch that the Prime Minister considered handwriting, Pirouette rose from her desk and moved to the window in measured paces. It never failed to amaze Abigail (and others) how their Queen could walk in such a way that she appeared to be gliding like a skater on ice.
When she reached the window, Pirouette saw her beloved GarGar, le comte des Deux Chats riding a magnificent white steed and dressed in his full uniform as a general in Her Majesty Army. He looked every bit the hero with his light blue coat, a dozen or more medals hanging from his chest, with his shiny black riding boots and his sword by his side. On his face, he wore an expression that bespoke authority, determination and pride. But it was his flashing eyes that were his most noticeable adornment.