Bertie couldn’t wait to tell his friends at school. They were going to be so jealous! He waited until break time when they were out in the playground.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” he said.
Darren shrugged. “Nothing.”
“I’ve got swimming,” said Donna.
“I’ve got to visit my aunt,” said Eugene, gloomily.
“Oh. Only I won’t be here,” said Bertie. “I’ve got to go to London. To meet the Queen.”
The others stared at him boggle-eyed. Darren burst out laughing.
“YOU? MEET THE QUEEN? HA HA!”
“Good one, Bertie,” grinned Eugene. “For a minute I almost believed you.”
“It’s true!” said Bertie. “She’s giving a gardening party. Me and Gran are invited.”
“Invited to what?” asked a drawling voice. Bertie groaned. Trust Know-All Nick to poke his nose in where it wasn’t wanted!
“Bertie reckons he’s going to meet the Queen,” grinned Darren.
“Oh ha ha, very funny,” sneered Nick.
“I am!” said Bertie.
“Liar liar, pants on fire!”
“All right, don’t believe me,” said Bertie, huffily.
“I don’t,” said Nick.
“Okay, I’ll bring you the invitation.”
“Huh! Anyone could write an invitation,” scoffed Nick. “Prove you met the Queen, then I might believe you.”
“Right, I will!” said Bertie. “I’ll get her photo. We’ll soon see who’s lying!”
The week went by slowly. As the big day drew near, Bertie’s parents gave him lots of helpful advice.
“Don’t mumble!” said Dad.
“Don’t slouch!” said Mum.
“And please, please, please DON’T PICK YOUR NOSE!”
“I’m not going to,” sighed Bertie. Anyone would think he had no manners at all!
Mum pulled up a chair. “All right, let’s have a practice. Pretend I’m the Queen and we’ve just met. Now, what do you say?”
“Um… Where’s the food?” said Bertie.
“You can’t ask the Queen that!”
“Why not? I’ll be hungry.”
“You have to make Polite Conversation,” said Mum. “And remember to call her ‘Your Majesty’. Now try again.
Ahem… Good afternoon, young man.”
“Good hafternoon, Your Magicsty,” said Bertie.
Mum gave him a look. “Why are you talking like that?”
“I’m makin’ polite what-you-said.”
“You sound like you’ve got a mouthful of chewing gum. Speak normally! And stop bobbing up and down!”
“I’m bowing!” said Bertie.
“Well don’t! Keep still and talk to me. And hurry up, the Queen hasn’t got all day!”
“Good afternoon, Your Magicsty,” said Bertie. “Um, when do we eat?”
Mum gave up. There would be hundreds of people at the garden party. With any luck, Bertie wouldn’t get within a mile of the Queen. She certainly hoped not.