The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs

Gorba said. “If you don’t go away, I’ll turn the lot of you into frogs!” She plucked Howie from her pocket. “Like this!”
    â€œWe fear not your magic!” a bearded prince called.
    â€œYou got that at the pond,” another prince jeered.
    â€œFine,” Gorba snapped. “Hexibus, tantalus , langulus, trab —”
    â€œTo me!” George yelled, lunging at the witch. The rest of the bunch followed, piling onto the porch in a tangle of arms and legs, nearly drowning out the witch’s voice. The tangle shrank and turned green. A couple of men-at-arms scrambled to their feet and ran.
    Gorba sat up to catch her breath. She patted her hair back into place. “I gave ’em fair warning, didn’t I?” A chorus of voices from within the cottage croaked their agreement as a cranky witch began shooing frogs into the house.

6
    AT THE EDGE OF THE CLEARING, PRINCE BAIN stepped out, one of his men beside him. “Now, that was a good trick,” he said genially.
    â€œWhat are we going to do about her?” the other man asked.
    â€œFight fire with fire,” Bain told him. “We need some magic of our own.”
    Just then Dilly’s fingers slipped. The branch she was holding scratched across its neighbor. Dilly stilled it quickly, but the voices stopped. She stood up partway and tried to move away from the cottage at a crouch. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard running feet and felt a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” a rough voice asked as the man spun her around. “Spying?”
    Dilly couldn’t think what to say. But the other man said, “Let go of her, Feg. I’m sure she’ll be happy to explain herself.”

    Reluctantly, the prince’s companion loosed his grip on her shoulder, and Dilly stepped back. The prince was smiling at her, his eyes glinting green. “I am Prince Bain. Who are you?”
    â€œDilly, my lord,” she managed to say. He didn’t look easy to fool.
    â€œWhy are you here?”
    Suddenly Dilly knew exactly why someone like herself would be at the witch’s cottage. “Oh, sir,” she said, “I can’t tell a gentleman.” She threw in a nervous giggle.
    The two men glanced at each other. “Were you hoping to see the witch?” the prince asked.
    Dilly nodded. “I work up at the castle, and there’s this boy, he works there, too, and they say the witch, they say she knows about such things.” Dilly batted her eyelashes a bit.
    â€œShe’s after a love spell?” Feg asked dubiously.
    â€œIt would appear so,” Bain replied. “And you hid because?”
    â€œOh,” Dilly said, blushing, “I got here, and I saw all these princes about, coming after the witch, so I thought if I just waited—” She shut her mouth abruptly.
    Prince Bain laughed. “The old woman would turn us into frogs, and you could get on with your business?”
    Dilly’s eyes widened. “I’d never wish such a thing on a gentleman!” she protested.
    â€œOf course not,” said Feg, still suspicious.
    â€œRun along, girl,” Prince Bain told her. “The witch is busy with other guests.”

    â€œThank you, Your Highness,” Dilly said. There was no need to fake her relief as she took to her heels. It was a pity she’d have to wait all day to tell Meg what this prince was planning for the witch.
    Â 
    Meg and Cam watched a group of men struggling up the slope far, far below. “I’ll bet it’s Vantor,” Meg said. “They’re wearing gray, like his tent.”
    Cam coughed, waving away a puff of smoke that swirled past lazily, as if a giant were smoking his great pipe in the cave beside them.
    â€œWe’ve got to go in now , before they get here!” Meg whispered furiously.
    â€œAnd if the dragon eats you?” Cam asked.
    â€œYou’re