ONCE OUTSIDE, PEONY WOUND UP the rope and slung it over her shoulder. “I’d better keep this – I might need it,” she decided. “And now I’ll climb the oak tree. It’s too early to go and find Father; he’s always grumpy before breakfast. And I can peek in the palace windows from up in the branches, so I’ll know when everyone’s awake.”
She ran through the orchard, jumping to pick any cherries that were low enough to reach, and a moment later she was swinging herself up through the green leaves of the oak tree. The sun had risen over the distant hills and Peony, whistling happily, climbed higher and higher in the summer morning air. A pigeon, disturbed on its branch, fluttered away, and she waved at it. “I always knew this would be a fabulous tree to climb,” she said. “Now … how much higher can I go?”
After five minutes’ energetic climbing the princess found that she could see not only the palace roof sparkling in the sunshine, but the courtyard and driveway beyond, too.
“Oh my goodness!” Peony gazed round in wonder. As she looked, her eyes caught sight of a distant movement. “Oh,” she said. “Isn’t that the milk cart?” And she watched it make its way towards the palace. The milk cart was soon followed by three bakers’ wagons, and Peony leant back against the tree trunk.
All these things coming to the palace, she thought. They must be for the christening. What shall I do? Should I see if I can creep back to my bedroom? But what would Father say? She frowned as she considered. I’ve got to find the right moment to talk to him … and not make him angry again. That won’t help Mr Longbeard. Maybe I should wait until the christening is over and ask him then. Oh dear. I wish I knew the best thing to do.
Yet another vehicle appeared, and Peony watched curiously as it slowly trundled up the driveway. That doesn’t look like a delivery cart…
A second later she was leaning dangerously forward. An ancient travelling coach had stopped halfway up the hill and an enormous old woman was struggling out. She was too far away for Peony to hear what she was saying, but she was shaking her fist and stamping her feet. For a couple of minutes she stood and argued with the driver; he kept shrugging and pointing at his pocket. Then there was a puff of smoke and his horse turned pink. The driver gave a terrified scream and the horse set off back down the hill at a gallop, the coach bumping and rattling behind.
“Goodness!” Peony stared in astonishment as the old woman rubbed her hands together in glee. “Who is she?”
“That’s the Hag,” said a voice in her ear, and Peony all but fell out of the tree in surprise. The palace cat was sitting on a branch above her head, cleaning his whiskers. “And you can be sure that she’s up to no good. You need to watch her.”
Peony stared at the cat. “Did … did you just TALK to me?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t the pigeon. Stupid things, pigeons.” Basil extended a paw, studied it, then began to clean between his toes. “Name’s Basil, by the way. How do you do?”
“I … I’m very well, thank you.” Peony was trying hard not to keep staring. “Erm … can I ask you something?”
Basil blinked his large yellow eyes. “I expect you want to know why I haven’t spoken to you before.” When Peony nodded, he went on, “I didn’t need to. That’s the answer. But if the Hag’s creeping round there’s going to be trouble, and I prefer a quiet life. Wickedness sours the milk.” He finished grooming his toes, gave them an admiring glance and sat up. “What’s she doing now?”
Peony turned and looked down. The Hag, moving surprisingly fast for such a big woman, had scuttled into the bushes that bordered the wide driveway. Now she was zigzagging to and fro, gradually getting closer to the palace.
“Is she a witch?” Peony asked.
“She’s a bad fairy,” Basil told her. “I don’t suppose you happen to know if your parents invited her to the christening?”
Peony rubbed her nose thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. They did invite three Fairy Godmothers – I heard them talking about it.”
“Oh dear.” Basil shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. Don’t your parents know about these things? You must ALWAYS invite all the fairies who live in or near your kingdom, or the ones who are left out get terribly angry and cause no end of problems.” He paused. “The Hag will know the Fairy Godmothers have been invited. She’s clever, as well as evil. And she also knows they’re old. Very old. And – if you don’t mind my mentioning it – very underused.”
“Underused?” Peony looked blank.
“Fairies have magic powers, but their powers fade away if they don’t have the chance to practise. The Hag, on the other hand…” The cat rolled his eyes. “She’ll have been keeping her spells brewing, and they’ll have grown stronger and stronger.”
“So what should we do? Should I tell Father?” Peony started to wriggle along her branch.
“Certainly not!” The cat’s whiskers bristled. “Without wishing to be rude, Princess, that would be a disaster.”
“Oh.” Peony rubbed her nose again. “I rather expected that you’d say that.”
The cat gave her a sideways look. “So – it seems that it’s up to you.”
“Me? Just me? Aren’t you going to help?” Peony asked.
Basil considered the question. “Perhaps. I do prefer good to evil. And the Fairy Godmothers have always paid me well.” He stood up on the branch and stretched. “You keep watch from here for a while. I’ll go and see what’s happening inside the palace.” And with a twitch of his whiskers he was gone.
Peony turned to see where the Hag had got to. She was in a clump of ornamental grass at the top of the driveway, and was fishing in her pockets.
That’s a very strange dress, was Peony’s first thought. Her second was, Oh my goodness! What IS she doing? Why is she pulling that string out of her pockets? And look at all those carriages! The first guests are arriving already!
