Half the village is talking about me. ‘My hairs bright red and I’ve got a temper to match’
I don’t have a temper! Well not really, I’m only a little abrasive on Monday, and, well, Tuesday too. And on Wednesday I was in a pretty foul mood. And Thursday was my bad day when that old lady called me fat and I hit her. And on Fridays I work so I’m in a bad mood then. But two days out of the seven I’m just a delightful person…Except for this weekend. . .
The annual ball was coming up. Every year Madame Fowl, our local Queen, hosts a ball for her son to get married. 10 balls later, she still won’t give up. I never get to go. I’m just a stupid maid.
Only this year, as I collected Mr. And Mrs. Paradizio’s (the family I serve) mail, there were not two invitations, but three. My brain wasn’t working-I couldn’t be invited, could I? But neither could Minerva, the 2-year-old baby.
“Your letters, Ma’am, Sir.” Dear Frond, I sounded like a mindless puppy.
They barely acknowledged me. Only Minerva screeched “Mummy, she got something!”
How she knew this was mystery to me, but I took the letter gratefully.
Dear Miss Short,
We are pleased to inform you that you are invited to the annual Prince’s ball, held in Fowl Manor. Hope to see you there,
Me? Invited to the ball? You only get invited if they think you’d be a good match for the Prince, or married to a possibly suitable match, and it’s definitely not the second, so they must be considering me! Me! A servant! Get married to a Prince!