Princess of Glass by Jessica Day George Page A
Authors: Jessica Day George
Tags: Fiction, General, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Witches, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Young Adult Fiction, Princes, Fairy Tales & Folklore, Royalty, princesses, Fairy Tales, Adaptations, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, Fairy Tales & Folklore - Adaptations
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"It looked green for a moment, but now it looks bare."
"Green? You saw it too?" Christian tried not to sound too eager. He'd thought his eyes were playing tricks again.
"I didn't see anything," Poppy said. "Except the fish in that pond there." She looked as though she were going to spear one of them with the tip of her furled parasol. Really, she was an odd girl.
"No matter," Christian said uneasily, steering them away from the greenhouse and the fish. With a note of forced casual-ness he asked if they cared to join him at a nearby tea shop for some refreshments.
"Of course we do," Poppy said, turning her back on the pond readily. "Young ladies are always hungry, you know, because we're not allowed to eat properly in front of potential suitors."
"What about me?" He wasn't sure if he was offended or not.
"You? But you're our friend," Poppy told him, linking her arm through his again. "Like an older brother."
"Ooh, I love strawberry icing," said Marianne. The green glass house seemed to be completely forgotten.
But Christian couldn't forget. What did it mean?
And what did Poppy mean by an "older" brother?
68
***
Invited
A week after Poppy visited the Royal Gallery with Christian and Marianne, the Seadown household received a royal invitation. They were in the breakfast room and Poppy was pretending to like kippers when it came.
The butler presented his silver tray with the thick invitation on it with great reverence, and Lady Margaret looked a bit wary as she took it. Though Her Ladyship was a cousin of the king's, royal invitations had been rather thin since Poppy arrived. The princess had been presented to King Rupert and Queen Edith, but other than that had not set foot inside the palace. Poppy hoped that her sisters were receiving warmer welcomes; from their letters that appeared to be the case.
Marianne was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. "Will there be a gala? With fireworks?" She turned to Poppy. "It's almost the queen's birthday. Last year they had a gala, with food and music and fireworks!" Her eyes took on
69
a dreamy look. "And Dickon Thwaite kissed me in a rose bower..."
Lord Richard put down his newspaper. "Young Thwaite did what?"
Marianne blushed bright pink and applied herself to her kippers. Poppy caught her host's gaze, and they both grinned.
"Whatever it is," Lord Richard said mildly as he went back to his paper, "I hope that it is properly chaperoned this time. And that there is a card room for Poppy."
Lady Margaret read the invitation twice. "This is most exciting," she said finally. "And also a bit... unusual."
"Tell us!" Marianne tried to snatch the invitation from her mother, who calmly held it out of her reach.
"Well, it appears that there will not just be a gala for the queen's birthday, but a masked ball two weeks later as well." Lady Margaret shook her head. "Rupert has never done something like this before."
"Rupert has never wanted a houseguest to get married so badly," Lord Richard remarked from behind the paper. "Having ties to the Danelaw's navy is nothing to sneeze at, and the princesses are too young for Christian."
"I'd best not go," Poppy said. "Seeing me will only remind everyone of Alfred, and Queen Edith detests gambling besides."
Her hosts protested, but Poppy was adamant. Upstairs, Marianne continued to pester Poppy. Poppy lay across the other girl's bed, knitting something pale blue and fuzzy.
"Don't be a goose, Poppy, you must come." Marianne was
70
posing in front of the mirror, sucking in her cheeks and batting her eyelashes. "What is that you're making now? Giant garters to go with the giant socks?"
"Those socks turned out beautifully, thank you very much," Poppy retorted. "Since you kept mocking them, I intend to give them to your mother at the holidays. This is a scarf."
"Ooh, for Christian?"
"For you, actually, since you mocked the bed socks," Poppy said dryly. She sat up and held the coiled blue thing against Marianne's neck.
"Green? You saw it too?" Christian tried not to sound too eager. He'd thought his eyes were playing tricks again.
"I didn't see anything," Poppy said. "Except the fish in that pond there." She looked as though she were going to spear one of them with the tip of her furled parasol. Really, she was an odd girl.
"No matter," Christian said uneasily, steering them away from the greenhouse and the fish. With a note of forced casual-ness he asked if they cared to join him at a nearby tea shop for some refreshments.
"Of course we do," Poppy said, turning her back on the pond readily. "Young ladies are always hungry, you know, because we're not allowed to eat properly in front of potential suitors."
"What about me?" He wasn't sure if he was offended or not.
"You? But you're our friend," Poppy told him, linking her arm through his again. "Like an older brother."
"Ooh, I love strawberry icing," said Marianne. The green glass house seemed to be completely forgotten.
But Christian couldn't forget. What did it mean?
And what did Poppy mean by an "older" brother?
68
***
Invited
A week after Poppy visited the Royal Gallery with Christian and Marianne, the Seadown household received a royal invitation. They were in the breakfast room and Poppy was pretending to like kippers when it came.
The butler presented his silver tray with the thick invitation on it with great reverence, and Lady Margaret looked a bit wary as she took it. Though Her Ladyship was a cousin of the king's, royal invitations had been rather thin since Poppy arrived. The princess had been presented to King Rupert and Queen Edith, but other than that had not set foot inside the palace. Poppy hoped that her sisters were receiving warmer welcomes; from their letters that appeared to be the case.
Marianne was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. "Will there be a gala? With fireworks?" She turned to Poppy. "It's almost the queen's birthday. Last year they had a gala, with food and music and fireworks!" Her eyes took on
69
a dreamy look. "And Dickon Thwaite kissed me in a rose bower..."
Lord Richard put down his newspaper. "Young Thwaite did what?"
Marianne blushed bright pink and applied herself to her kippers. Poppy caught her host's gaze, and they both grinned.
"Whatever it is," Lord Richard said mildly as he went back to his paper, "I hope that it is properly chaperoned this time. And that there is a card room for Poppy."
Lady Margaret read the invitation twice. "This is most exciting," she said finally. "And also a bit... unusual."
"Tell us!" Marianne tried to snatch the invitation from her mother, who calmly held it out of her reach.
"Well, it appears that there will not just be a gala for the queen's birthday, but a masked ball two weeks later as well." Lady Margaret shook her head. "Rupert has never done something like this before."
"Rupert has never wanted a houseguest to get married so badly," Lord Richard remarked from behind the paper. "Having ties to the Danelaw's navy is nothing to sneeze at, and the princesses are too young for Christian."
"I'd best not go," Poppy said. "Seeing me will only remind everyone of Alfred, and Queen Edith detests gambling besides."
Her hosts protested, but Poppy was adamant. Upstairs, Marianne continued to pester Poppy. Poppy lay across the other girl's bed, knitting something pale blue and fuzzy.
"Don't be a goose, Poppy, you must come." Marianne was
70
posing in front of the mirror, sucking in her cheeks and batting her eyelashes. "What is that you're making now? Giant garters to go with the giant socks?"
"Those socks turned out beautifully, thank you very much," Poppy retorted. "Since you kept mocking them, I intend to give them to your mother at the holidays. This is a scarf."
"Ooh, for Christian?"
"For you, actually, since you mocked the bed socks," Poppy said dryly. She sat up and held the coiled blue thing against Marianne's neck.
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