exaggeration that her presence determined the life and death of two nations.
PART II
PHRAUGHELOCH, SEAT OF INFAMY
The Supremely Private Diary of Wisdom Dizzy of Montagne
Any Soul Who Contemplates Even Glancing
at the Pages of this Volume Will
Be Transformed into a Toad
Suffer a Most Excruciating Punishment.
On This You Have My Word.
Thursday—evening—
We are within an hour of Froglock—would that we arrived this v. second as I am fiercely weary of this ghastly carriage! I have been imprisoned within this lurching monster for all the afternoon as Nonna says 'twould be unseemly if I trotted beside or heaven forbid rode atop with that wonderful coachman—'tis true I probably could not keep pace with the horses—not in skirts anyway—but to be trapped within this dusty upholstery when the sky for once is blue & the clouds so crisp I could ride them ... I am a victim pure & simple. A sacrifice to protocol.
Nonna & that serving girl have become the best of friends—it is horrible to behold. Nonna praises her incessantly—her figure—her stitches—her respect for decorum—each time pointing out my shortcomings with words or tone. It is not my fault I have no bosom! I would rather pad my dresses than squeeze myself in as Mrs. Sprat must! And then T was so good—so diligent—to spend the day altering Mrs. Sprat's gown—I would have been rendered sick from the motion of the carriage but she did not seem affected & she does have a v. lovely stitch—if I could sew half so well I'd have saved myself a lifetime of scoldings. Nonna kept droning on about how terribly she herself used to sew but I know she is referring to me.
We have just departed our fourth inn of the day where we stopped yet again for fresh horses & to change as we cannot appear at P in our traveling clothes!—& T was so helpful dressing Nonna in her green velvet or so Nonna stated at least five & twenty times. As we have suffered the loss of our hairdresser I was forced to don a wig—by good fortune Nonna remembered to pack it!—& so I now sit with stays & horsehair poking me in countless places—I cannot wait to relieve this discomfort—but worse than this is T! That blue gown made Mrs. Sprat look like a breaching whale but "Lady Fortitude" (which is what we must call her & it does sound v. impressive however much T squirms when we speak it) has stitched it into a marvel—clearly she wishes the bodice more discreet tho I thought serving maids aspired to lusty proportions—& most ladies I know would renounce their titles for such an aspect!
Nonna insisted T remove her headscarf—the girl is so irritatingly diffident!—& with thirty seconds' effort & four combs piled that hair into the most glorious pompadour I have ever seen. With natural ringlets! I could not help sighing in envy though my praise only irked her. She now sits frowning out the coach window—completely ungrateful for her blessings. I would be the happiest of girls if I were she.
O! I am to see Roger! I had forgotten completely! It has been so many months that I fear—on top of all my other worries!—that I will not recognize him! How awful that would be. How v. awful indeed.
From the Desk of the Queen Mother of Montagne, & Her Cat
My Dearest Temperance, Queen of Montagne:
Granddaughter, forgive this rough hand, but a trotting carriage does not provide the smoothest of venues in which to write. Yet I cannot delay in conveying my delight at your good fortune—which I now know, thanks to the devotion and resolve of the imperial mail service! 'Twas most remarkable—even your sister, who has been in a rare sulk the entire day, brightened at the experience. The westerly mail rider, having been informed of our proximity by the keeper of the inn we had only recently departed, raced to intercept us that he might tender the queen mother of Montagne correspondence from the queen. Handing me your missive with a flourish, he then continued on his journey to
PART II
PHRAUGHELOCH, SEAT OF INFAMY
The Supremely Private Diary of Wisdom Dizzy of Montagne
Any Soul Who Contemplates Even Glancing
at the Pages of this Volume Will
Be Transformed into a Toad
Suffer a Most Excruciating Punishment.
On This You Have My Word.
Thursday—evening—
We are within an hour of Froglock—would that we arrived this v. second as I am fiercely weary of this ghastly carriage! I have been imprisoned within this lurching monster for all the afternoon as Nonna says 'twould be unseemly if I trotted beside or heaven forbid rode atop with that wonderful coachman—'tis true I probably could not keep pace with the horses—not in skirts anyway—but to be trapped within this dusty upholstery when the sky for once is blue & the clouds so crisp I could ride them ... I am a victim pure & simple. A sacrifice to protocol.
Nonna & that serving girl have become the best of friends—it is horrible to behold. Nonna praises her incessantly—her figure—her stitches—her respect for decorum—each time pointing out my shortcomings with words or tone. It is not my fault I have no bosom! I would rather pad my dresses than squeeze myself in as Mrs. Sprat must! And then T was so good—so diligent—to spend the day altering Mrs. Sprat's gown—I would have been rendered sick from the motion of the carriage but she did not seem affected & she does have a v. lovely stitch—if I could sew half so well I'd have saved myself a lifetime of scoldings. Nonna kept droning on about how terribly she herself used to sew but I know she is referring to me.
We have just departed our fourth inn of the day where we stopped yet again for fresh horses & to change as we cannot appear at P in our traveling clothes!—& T was so helpful dressing Nonna in her green velvet or so Nonna stated at least five & twenty times. As we have suffered the loss of our hairdresser I was forced to don a wig—by good fortune Nonna remembered to pack it!—& so I now sit with stays & horsehair poking me in countless places—I cannot wait to relieve this discomfort—but worse than this is T! That blue gown made Mrs. Sprat look like a breaching whale but "Lady Fortitude" (which is what we must call her & it does sound v. impressive however much T squirms when we speak it) has stitched it into a marvel—clearly she wishes the bodice more discreet tho I thought serving maids aspired to lusty proportions—& most ladies I know would renounce their titles for such an aspect!
Nonna insisted T remove her headscarf—the girl is so irritatingly diffident!—& with thirty seconds' effort & four combs piled that hair into the most glorious pompadour I have ever seen. With natural ringlets! I could not help sighing in envy though my praise only irked her. She now sits frowning out the coach window—completely ungrateful for her blessings. I would be the happiest of girls if I were she.
O! I am to see Roger! I had forgotten completely! It has been so many months that I fear—on top of all my other worries!—that I will not recognize him! How awful that would be. How v. awful indeed.
From the Desk of the Queen Mother of Montagne, & Her Cat
My Dearest Temperance, Queen of Montagne:
Granddaughter, forgive this rough hand, but a trotting carriage does not provide the smoothest of venues in which to write. Yet I cannot delay in conveying my delight at your good fortune—which I now know, thanks to the devotion and resolve of the imperial mail service! 'Twas most remarkable—even your sister, who has been in a rare sulk the entire day, brightened at the experience. The westerly mail rider, having been informed of our proximity by the keeper of the inn we had only recently departed, raced to intercept us that he might tender the queen mother of Montagne correspondence from the queen. Handing me your missive with a flourish, he then continued on his journey to
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