The Cinderella Theorem by Kristee Ravan Page B

princess to taste it.” He made
a motion, and a castle servant whisked the apple away. My beautiful, shiny, red
apple taken away to be tested and destroyed!
    Lady
Potio spoke again, interrupting any plans I had for protesting. “Does Your Majesty
mean to insult?” She asked in a voice even more sickly, sugary sweet than
before and with a smile that showed she was not insulted.
    What
game was she playing with my father?
    “The
apples of Hemlock are well known in the realm for their delicious flavor.”
    “Yes,”
my father shifted in his chair. “And every wise citizen uses their poison
testing kit before eating those same apples. Your skilled use of poisons is
equally famous in the realm. I believe your own stepdaughter would agree.”
    She
laughed, actually laughed. I find nothing funny about a woman who grows
poisoned apples and has apparently poisoned her own stepdaughter. My desire for
the apple waned.
    “Always
wise, King Matthew. You are right to test the apple.” She smiled. “But you will
find no poison on it.” She turned to me. “Won’t you open the other gift,
Princess? I assure you, there is no poison in that box.”
    I
opened the purple present, still a little rattled by the poisoned apple (that
may or may not have been poisoned). Inside the box was a mirror. This, while a
little girly for me, was a normal gift. I relaxed.
    Then
the mirror talked.
    “What
a study is your face! Expecting danger in my place?”
    Apparently,
it’s a rhyming mirror. Years of getting non-mathematical presents from my
mother enabled me to look at Lady Potio, smile, and say, “Thank you very much
for this mirror.”
    “I
wish you great happiness.” She winked at my father. “And wisdom to equal our
King.” Then she turned and left the room; the servant boy followed.
    Macon
stepped forward and announced, “Allow me to present you with a gift from the
whole of E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire Land: the traditional box!”
    He
pressed a wooden box into my hands. It was just like The Box I had of my
father’s, but instead of “HRHMS” mine had “HRHLS” engraved on it.
    I
smiled. My own Box. “But what are the letters for?”
    My
father leaned over. “Her Royal Highness Lily Sparrow.”
    I
reluctantly let the servant take the box and turned my attention to the next
visitor.
    “Prince
Harry and Princess Rapunzel of Pelo.”
    Obviously
Rapunzel was the princess who had a lot of hair. So, when they gave me their
gift, I totally understood: a hairbrush. Harry and Rapunzel left and were
followed by Little Red Riding Hood (whose real name is Cerise) with a basket of
baked goods sent over by her mother.
    “The
Sphinx,” Macon announced. The doors opened for a lion with the head of a woman.
This particular combination is not mathematical at all and rather puzzling. What
kind of food does the Sphinx eat? She has a human’s taste buds, but a lion’s
digestive system. And how does she fix her hair? Her paws don’t look very
dexterous to me. I drew myself away from the biological/mathematical quandary
in order to pay attention to what the Sphinx was saying.
    “Your
Highness,” she bowed the front part of her body, touching her head to the
ground. “I do not come with a gift, but I bring a riddle. Listen well, for the
riddle contains a warning: Because of a gift, a name becomes a threat. ”
    While
I wondered how to respond to this in a proper princessly way, my mother asked,
“Can you tell us more, Lady?”
    The
Sphinx bowed again and looked sorrowful, “You know I cannot, Your Majesty. But
heed the warning and beware.” Then she turned and left.
    What
is going on? I have already received a possibly poisoned apple and now, an
ominous warning from a half woman, half lion. I turned to my mother, searching
for an answer, but I couldn’t catch her eye. She seemed upset.
    Macon’s
voice brought me out of my wonderings. “Glenni, the fairy godmother,” he
announced.
    Glenni!
Creator of floating math and prime number alarm