As her carriage moved slowly down the main thoroughfare of the capital, Queen Pirouette pushed her right arm out the window, dispensing waves to the crowds who lined the way. Cheers of “God save the Queen!” Rose in the air at thunderous volume. Despite her grief over the loss of GarGar, le comte des Deux Chats, such outpourings of affection from her subjects was gratifying. I must be doing something right, she thought to herself.
“See how the people love you!” Enthused Lady Abigail who sat directly across from her.
A man, pushing his way passed the guards, a father with a little boy in his arms, held the child to the window within Pirouette’s reach. The boy managed to place a small bouquet into her hand. “Stop the coach!” Cried Pirouette. “Stop it now!”
As the carriage came to a grinding halt, Pirouette pushed the door open. One of the coachmen deployed the steps at her feet and extended a hand to help her dismount. Beaming with delight, the Queen held the little bunch of flowers in one hand. With the other, she caressed the boy’s cheek. “And who is this little imp?” She inquired of the father.
“This is Gaston,” the burly man answered.
“Would you and Gaston like to live in the palace with us?”