Minka and Bilious had traveled and searched over all of Rowne—east and north and west and south, and then round the compass again. Minka’s temper was short, and Bilious had strayed so far from his route that he feared he’d lost his good custom forever; each had begun to fear that their zigs and zags across the country were for naught and that Margaret had met with misfortune, and they uttered their prayers with more vigor than ever.

One morning on the road heading west again, their cart was overtaken by a party traveling at a clip Old Penelope could never match.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Bilious called to the driver of the cart, a bent and skinny fellow whose kneecaps poked from holes in his hose. Minka fanned away the dust kicked up from the road as the cart passed.

“Haven’t you heard?” replied the driver, over his shoulder. “There’s to be a royal wedding in Knightsbridge, come St. Petronilla’s Day.”

Minka counted on her fingers. “That’s but five days hence,” she said. “Go faster, Bilious!”

“You’d best hurry along,” called the knobby-kneed driver, as he pulled farther ahead, “if you’re to arrive in time with that old nag!”

Urchin snorted.

“It isn’t me he means,” said Minka, puffing up.

“I should say not,” said Bilious, with a wink at Urchin. “Besides, we’re but a day away from Knightsbridge.”

Before long they came upon a village and pulled to a stop to sup and rest Penelope. Urchin, dressed in her grain sack with a clean blanket wrapped around her like a cape, began to cavort about, hopping and leaping left and right and back and forth.

Bilious glanced up from the pan of sausages grilling on the fire. He broke off a bit and fed it to Pip, who nibbled it eagerly.

“Got a flair for the dramatic, that one,” Bilious said.

Minka grunted her agreement.

Before long, a crowd of ten or twelve had gathered to watch Urchin’s odd dance, some pointing and nodding, others laughing. After a while, she stopped jigging about and stood still, chin raised, posture straight as a candle. She pulled the blanket tight around her, and looked down her nose at the people.

Minka elbowed Bilious. “What is she up to?”

Bilious shrugged and speared a sausage in reply.

“Loyal subjects,” Urchin began in a loud voice that carried like a crow’s caw, “I, Your Royal Highness Queen Urchin, do you the honor of greeting you!”

She tipped her head slightly and circled her hand from the wrist. “Ladies and lords, I need hardly say how distinguishable I am, how very popular I am, and I can only say I will die afore I yield to, to…to the enemy!” She raised a fist in the air. “Yes, every last one of my knights”—she gestured to Bilious, who, mouth full of grilled sausage, cheerfully waved his spoon in the air—“will take to their fine mounts”—she swept an arm toward Old Penelope, who passed wind as if on cue—“to defend the hills, the rivers, the cities, the villages and allllll the people in them, to fight off…the evil, ugly, enemy horde.” Here she pointed at Minka, who growled, seemingly accommodatingly. “The ugly horde,” Urchin repeated, “that even now rumbles at our gates!”

As Urchin’s royal rallying speech gathered speed, the people were chuckling more and more loudly, welcoming the surprise of entertainment from an unexpected source. Urchin paused to breathe.

“History,” her speech continued, “tradition, pomp, duty, golden crowns, and so on and so forth. Free bread and blankets! So that wolves do not invade the kingdom and its flock!” Urchin finished strong and shook her royal hempen garb.

“Huzzah!” A cheer went up and was echoed by three or four members of the crowd. Urchin tipped her head in gracious appreciation.

“In conclusion, I thank me for honoring you in this way, and remind you that none of this business of good rulership can be kept up without you pay your taxes, withal.” With that, Urchin whipped the hat from Minka’s head and passed it around, and several amused folk tossed in coins, so that some merry clinking could be heard above the laughter.

Later, Urchin counted the coins as they rode west toward Knightsbridge. In among them were a spoon, a thimble, two walnuts, and a pin.

“Where did you come by those items?” Minka demanded.

“Pip,” Urchin replied. “He’s a clever one, even for a squirrel.”

Minka gasped and put her hand to her bosom. “Bilious!” she barked, shifting on the wagon seat to fix her eye on him.

“Ye-es?” Bilious stared straight ahead, eyes upon the road.

“I insist you reform that rodent,” Minka said, eyeing the squirrel around Urchin’s neck. “No more pickpocketry! I’ll not attach myself to a life of thieving.”

“Attached!” Bilious looked at her now, and held back a grin. “Attached, are we?”

Minka humphed. “Attached is a bunion to my sore left foot, that’s what,” she said, and crossed her arms.

Bilious chuckled and jiggled the reins. “Heeya, Penelope! Onward to the royal city, and rich as royals we are,” he said, “rich as royals!”