the clinging bodices of the mares concealed none of the creaturesâ strength and grace.
A mare stood directly below my part of the stands. Her eyes had the questioning look of an intelligent dog, and she sniffed the air with her human-seeming nose.
The centaur trainer entered the lists, carrying a basket and a baton. He held something up for King Oscaro and Ivi to see. Then he displayed it to the rest of the audienceâan egg. He threw it to the mare near me and reached into his basket for more.
Each centaur received four eggs. The trainer waved his baton, and they began both to juggle and to gallop. When they reached a hurdle, they jumped while still juggling. I smiled.
I glanced across the lists. Prince Ijori was smiling too. Our eyes met. His smile widened and my blush started.
I looked at the king and queen and caught a little drama. King Oscaro had turned his head toward Lady Arona, who was enchanting in a pink embroidered bonnet. Iviâs eyes followed his gaze. The fury in her face frightened me. I wouldnât have been Lady Arona then for anything.
A moment later the queen laughed, and I wondered if Iâd imagined her rage.
The centaurs started lobbing eggs to one another, sometimes halfway across the lists. I could barely breathe, expecting one of them to miss and an egg to land splat . Not a single egg was dropped. I raised my arms until my shoulders ached.
Frying Pan entered the arena, wheeling a charcoal brazier and carrying a bowl and a skillet. The trainer took the bowl while Frying Pan lit the charcoal. The centaurs trotted to the trainer. Each one cracked his or her eggs into the bowl and galloped out of the lists, followed by the trainer.
Frying Pan placed her frying pan atop the brazier. Everyone laughed as she beat the eggs and poured them into the pan. She sang,
âShake an egg
  Toss an egg
  Catch an egg
  Break an egg
  Omelette for lunch!
âWatch it bubble
  Watch it boil
  Watch it burn
  Watch it scorch
  Omelette for lunch!
âPlease, oh cook
  Quick, oh cook
  Cook, oh cook
  Serve, oh cook
  Omelette for lunch!â
Frying Pan lifted her pan off the flame. âOmelette for lunch!â She wheeled the brazier out of the arena.
The overcast sky darkened.
The centaurs trotted back in. The trainer returned, too, pulling nets filled with pulsing color. He opened the nets and released swarms of butterflies, which settled on the centaurs.
The centaurs turned into creatures out of a dream, garbed in bright hues that shifted and throbbed as the butterflies fluttered their wings. The centaurs began to move, slowly and carefully. The butterflies stayed with them!
The centaurs had completed a circuit of the lists when they began to trot. And the butterflies stayed with them. How could it be? But it was.
The centaurs cantered and then they galloped. They raced out of the arena with the butterflies still clinging. I hated to see them go. There might be more miracles ahead, but I could have watched this one forever.
There was a lull. Servants circulated with omelette sandwiches. Mine was the best Iâd ever tasted, studded with sweet peas and mellow eland cheese.
After weâd eaten, four huge centaurs entered the lists and strutted about, showing off their bulging muscles.
I felt a raindrop on my nose. Servants opened umbrellas over the heads of the courtiers. An ox entered the arena, pulling a cart filled with wooden posts and heavy iron rings. Mud spattered the cartâs wheels.
At first the rain didnât matter. A servant hammered four wooden posts into the ground in a line. Then he drove the cart to the centaurs. With great difficulty he lifted out an iron ring and staggered with it to a mare.
She lifted the ring as though it were paper. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the ring onto the farthest post, almost the length of the lists away.
The rain
A mare stood directly below my part of the stands. Her eyes had the questioning look of an intelligent dog, and she sniffed the air with her human-seeming nose.
The centaur trainer entered the lists, carrying a basket and a baton. He held something up for King Oscaro and Ivi to see. Then he displayed it to the rest of the audienceâan egg. He threw it to the mare near me and reached into his basket for more.
Each centaur received four eggs. The trainer waved his baton, and they began both to juggle and to gallop. When they reached a hurdle, they jumped while still juggling. I smiled.
I glanced across the lists. Prince Ijori was smiling too. Our eyes met. His smile widened and my blush started.
I looked at the king and queen and caught a little drama. King Oscaro had turned his head toward Lady Arona, who was enchanting in a pink embroidered bonnet. Iviâs eyes followed his gaze. The fury in her face frightened me. I wouldnât have been Lady Arona then for anything.
A moment later the queen laughed, and I wondered if Iâd imagined her rage.
The centaurs started lobbing eggs to one another, sometimes halfway across the lists. I could barely breathe, expecting one of them to miss and an egg to land splat . Not a single egg was dropped. I raised my arms until my shoulders ached.
Frying Pan entered the arena, wheeling a charcoal brazier and carrying a bowl and a skillet. The trainer took the bowl while Frying Pan lit the charcoal. The centaurs trotted to the trainer. Each one cracked his or her eggs into the bowl and galloped out of the lists, followed by the trainer.
Frying Pan placed her frying pan atop the brazier. Everyone laughed as she beat the eggs and poured them into the pan. She sang,
âShake an egg
  Toss an egg
  Catch an egg
  Break an egg
  Omelette for lunch!
âWatch it bubble
  Watch it boil
  Watch it burn
  Watch it scorch
  Omelette for lunch!
âPlease, oh cook
  Quick, oh cook
  Cook, oh cook
  Serve, oh cook
  Omelette for lunch!â
Frying Pan lifted her pan off the flame. âOmelette for lunch!â She wheeled the brazier out of the arena.
The overcast sky darkened.
The centaurs trotted back in. The trainer returned, too, pulling nets filled with pulsing color. He opened the nets and released swarms of butterflies, which settled on the centaurs.
The centaurs turned into creatures out of a dream, garbed in bright hues that shifted and throbbed as the butterflies fluttered their wings. The centaurs began to move, slowly and carefully. The butterflies stayed with them!
The centaurs had completed a circuit of the lists when they began to trot. And the butterflies stayed with them. How could it be? But it was.
The centaurs cantered and then they galloped. They raced out of the arena with the butterflies still clinging. I hated to see them go. There might be more miracles ahead, but I could have watched this one forever.
There was a lull. Servants circulated with omelette sandwiches. Mine was the best Iâd ever tasted, studded with sweet peas and mellow eland cheese.
After weâd eaten, four huge centaurs entered the lists and strutted about, showing off their bulging muscles.
I felt a raindrop on my nose. Servants opened umbrellas over the heads of the courtiers. An ox entered the arena, pulling a cart filled with wooden posts and heavy iron rings. Mud spattered the cartâs wheels.
At first the rain didnât matter. A servant hammered four wooden posts into the ground in a line. Then he drove the cart to the centaurs. With great difficulty he lifted out an iron ring and staggered with it to a mare.
She lifted the ring as though it were paper. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the ring onto the farthest post, almost the length of the lists away.
The rain
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