The Truth About Princes

by Ceinwyn Hart, age 14, from the US

And the prince carried the girl off into the sunset and they all lived happily ever after.

Or so the stories went. Xylia wouldn't really know, because the prince had been eaten before anything could happen, besides some other events that shed light on her situation.

She scrubbed another dish and sighed, why couldn't her life be that way? The way it was in fairytales? Of course the prince wasn't usually sent after a run away scullery maid, but that was another tale.

* * *

Xylia packed her few possessions into a sack, her coarse dress, tin cup, and knife. Stealthily she slipped into the kitchen and grabbed some cheese, bread, and a few turnips. Glancing about, her heart racing, she opened the door to freedom and quietly slipped out.

She hurried down the garden path and climbed over the low wooden wall, easy enough for a peasant girl such as she. Jumping over the edge she walked out into the forest, relishing her newfound escape from drudgery.

It's really not easy being a scullery maid, she thought to herself as she walked along. Scrub, cut, wash, and then all over again the next day, it certainly is boring. Those nobles have no idea, and I've heard them complain a lot! Oh I just cannot goon! The weight of deciding where to plant this years' field of turnips is too much for me! Stupid nobles.

She kicked a pinecone. If only that were that fat fool-of-a-king's head! She would have liked that. Theking was the most grossly obese being she had everseen. He ate five main courses a night, and drank enough wine to kill a horse. And I was given so many dishes to wash that I was always he last to leave the scullery. Stupid king!

But there was one noble: The prince. Oh, how extraordinarily he differed from his father. Instead of being obese, he was slim and muscular. And his intelligence was a fair notch above the king's. But I might as well wish for flying cows as wish for him to even look at her; her, just a skinny girl of fifteen with wild red hair, blazing green eyes, and a slightly turned up nose-no, never.

She hummed to herself and twirled, stepping lightly on her feet, as she took small leaps. That was one advantage of being as small as she was-the agility that came with lightness. Sometimes she almost felt as if she could fly. But then there were times when her smallness rooted her to the ground with fear. Like thetime the scullery mistress came after her for breakinga dish. She was a humongous woman with hands that looked like mallets. Ugh, bad memories. Better shakethem off so they don't come with me.

Memories, oh memories. She had her fill of bad and afew good, but what she wished she had, were memories of her parents. She never knew who they were, being anorphan found on the step of the local lord's castle.

And not much of a castle either! It was just wood with stone reinforcements. It didn't even have a moat!That fat king was to busy eating to improve his livingconditions!

Deciding that it was time to settle in for the night, Xylia looked around for a suitable tree. She had always loved trees, climbing them since she had been able to walk, and worrying whoever was unfortunate enough to be stuck with watching the mischievous child she had been. Spying a maple tree with large branches,and a cozy little girl nest in the center, she threw her few possessions up into the boughs, and scrambled nimbly up the trunk. Curling up she was sent to sleep with visions of princes on white horses, and fantastic sunsets.

* * *