By the time they had finished planning, Ellie was late for the meeting with her father. She raced back to the palace at top speed and burst into his office, brandishing the list. Then she stopped in dismay. Sitting next to the King was her governess, Miss Stringle. They were both staring at her in disapproval.
“Just look at the state of your clothes, Aurelia,” said the King.
Ellie winced at the sound of her real name, but did as she was told. Her pink dress was covered with a glorious mixture of dust from the workshop and dribbles of milk. There were pieces of hay stuck to its frills and several of its ribbon bows had come undone. “I’m sorry,” she said, as convincingly as she could. “I’ve been busy feeding a lamb and making plans for the camp.”
The King sighed, and glanced at his watch. “There’s no time for you to get changed now. I’m due in another meeting soon, so I’ve asked Miss Stringle to help make the arrangements.”
Ellie groaned inwardly. This could take all the fun out of camping. Her governess had strict ideas on how princesses should behave.
Miss Stringle stood up and leafed through the pile of papers she was holding. Then she coughed politely, curtseyed to the King and announced, “I estimate that we’ll need eight tents.”
“Eight! What for?” asked Ellie. “We only need two – one for us and one for the ponies.”
“Nonsense,” declared Miss Stringle. “You’re a princess. You can’t possibly share a tent with someone who isn’t royal.”
Ellie glared at her angrily. “But Kate’s my best friend,” she argued. “I’d be lonely without her.”
“That’s a very good point,” said the King. “And one less tent. So who are the others for?”
Miss Stringle counted on her fingers as she reeled off the names. “There’s Princess Aurelia’s personal maid to tidy her tent, a cook to prepare the food, a footman to serve the meals, a groom to care for the ponies…”
“No, no, no,” Ellie interrupted, crossly. “Camping is about freedom and doing everything ourselves. We don’t need servants and we definitely don’t need a groom. Kate and I can look after the ponies.”
“…and a scullery maid to wash the dishes,” continued Miss Stringle, taking no notice of the interruption.
“We don’t need her either,” said Ellie in a voice too loud to ignore. She had never washed up in her life, but she was determined to make her own rules for the camping trip.
The King took the papers from Miss Stringle and read them thoughtfully. “I admire you for wanting to do everything the hard way,” he told Ellie, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So you obviously won’t want this portable flushing toilet that Miss Stringle has mistakenly ordered.” He picked up a pencil and went to cross the offending item off the list.
Thoughts of pit latrines rushed through Ellie’s head and she leaped forward to stop him. “You can leave that if you like.”
The King smiled. “That’s good to hear. Now let’s see if we can work out some other compromises.”
Miss Stringle stared at her list thoughtfully. “I suppose we could do without the scullery maid, if we tell the footman to wash up.”
“No,” said Ellie. “We want to do it all.”
“But you can’t possibly put up the tents yourselves,” argued Miss Stringle. “They’re much too heavy for a princess to carry.”
“Okay,” agreed Ellie, reluctantly. “I don’t mind someone else doing that. But only on condition that they go home afterwards.”
“That seems reasonable enough,” agreed the King.
“But you’re not to do any cooking,” insisted Miss Stringle. “That would be much too undignified for a princess and we can’t risk burns so far from home. I will arrange for all your meals to be sent up from the palace.”
“Can’t we even make our own breakfast?” pleaded Ellie. “That’s not difficult.”
“You can take cornflakes and milk,” said the King. “But I agree with Miss Stringle about the danger from fires. We’ll send up the hot water for washing.”
“We won’t need that,” said Ellie. “The children in my book fetched their water from the stream, and we’re going to do the same.”
The King looked at her doubtfully. “If that’s what you want. But I suspect you’re not going to enjoy camping as much as you think.”
“I quite agree, Your Majesty,” said Miss Stringle. “It’s really not a suitable activity for a princess.”
“Yes, it is,” said Ellie. “I’m going to be away for a whole weekend and I’m going to love every minute of it.”
“If you don’t, you can always come back early,” sighed the King. “I’m sure you won’t manage two whole nights in a tent.”
Ellie glared at him. She was sure he was wrong. He must be. How could freedom not be fun?
