CHAPTER 11
The Princess and the Prince
Once upon a time… Sorry, that’s not how this story goes. Let me start again… Ahem…
“Are you my servant?” Preeya asked Mark. She was wearing a beautiful gown and a tiara on her head. She wasn’t just dressed as a princess, she was a princess.
“Excuuuuse me?” Mark said. He was wearing a velvet cape and a crown on his head. He wasn’t just dressed as a prince, he was a prince. “Do I look like a servant? I’m a prince!”
“You are?!” Preeya said. “Let’s get married, then!”
“Ew. I don’t think so,” Mark scoffed.
“What do you mean, ‘Ew’? I’m a beautiful princess, the most fair in all the lands.”
“Hardly. And I think you mean fairest,” Mark corrected her. He looked around the classroom. “Excuse me, strange children. Are any of you my servants? Has anyone seen my knights’ guard? Or my castle? I have a royal ball to attend.”
“As do I,” Preeya said. “I have lots of royal balls to attend.”
“Not as many as I do,” Mark said.
“Even more!” Preeya huffed. “All the balls are mine!”
“No, I love balls! The royal balls all belong to me!” Mark said.
“Okay, both of you, calm down,” Olivia said. “The classroom is already crazy enough without you two being royal pains in my butt. If you don’t want to help, then hush.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Preeya snapped.
“Are you my servant?” Mark said. “I’ve been standing here for almost five minutes. Standing is hard. My feet are very sore. Will you rub my feet?”
“I will not rub your feet,” Olivia said. “And I am not your servant!”
“No need to be rude,” Mark said. “I was only asking.”
“Your servants are very rude,” Preeya said.
“They’re not my servants,” Mark said. “They must be yours.”
“I think not,” Preeya said. “I would never have such unattractive peasants work for me. So they must be yours.”
“I don’t think so,” Mark said. “You can have them. I’ll take the balls.”
“You are the rudest prince I’ve ever met,” Preeya said. “I’ve decided not to marry you.”
“You can’t reject me! I already rejected you!” Mark yelled.
“Rejected me?” Preeya said. “I’ll have my father—the king—take off your head!”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Mark said. “My mother—the queen—would make war with your country!”
“I would rather destroy my country than let you talk to me like that!” Preeya yelled.
“They’ve gone crazy,” Olivia said.
Mason was sitting on his desk with a tub of popcorn. He was eating it slowly with a big smile on his face. “Are you kidding? This is better than reality TV!”
“Who are you, strange man?” Mark asked Mason. “Are you my butler?”
“Your butt-what?” Mason asked.
“My butler. The man who dresses me and calls for my tea and tucks me in at night and reads me stories before bed and—”
“That sounds like a dad. I’m not your dad,” Mason said.
“Aww, then you must be my butler,” Preeya said. “Fantastic. Would you fetch me a crumpet and my dog and perhaps a parasol? I think I would like a walk outside, and then—”
“Whoa, lady,” Mason said. “I’m not your butt-thing, either. In fact, no one here works for either one of you.”
“Ridiculous!” Mark shouted.
“Incredulous!” Preeya agreed.
“We should have your head removed!” Mark demanded.
Mason shrugged. “Do what you like.”
“We should do it,” Preeya said. “Let’s cut off his head.”
“Yes, let’s,” Mark agreed. “But how? Usually my servants know how to do such things. I don’t know how to do such things. Do you?”
“Of course not,” Preeya said. “I’m a princess. I don’t do the head chopping. That’s what servants are for.”
“I suppose we could do it ourselves,” Mark said. “I have certainly seen several beheadings. But where does one start?”
“I believe we need an ax,” Preeya said.
“And then what?”
“I suppose one would have to lift the ax.”
“Sounds like a dreadful amount of work,” Mark said. “And a lot of it. Who has the kind of strength for something like that? Pick up an ax? What do I look like—a servant?”
“Can you imagine—a prince and a princess—doing actual work?” Preeya asked.
Preeya and Mark began to laugh. They laughed and they laughed and they laughed. All tuckered out, the prince and princess fell asleep.
And they lived happily ever after.