Born to Rule

looked like a mask that might crack apart.
    Princess Kristen rolled her eyes. The Duchess of Bagglesnort took note.
    “Princess Kristen,” the duchess said, “you are from the Realm of Rolm, are you not?”
    “Yes, Your Grace,” Princess Kristen said demurely, and lowered her eyes.
    “Would you like to share with us some of your interests from that sea-bound realm? What kind of activities do you enjoy?”
    “You mean sports?” Kristen asked.
    “If you must. I was thinking more along the lines of art, but yes, sports. What do you like?”
    Kristen once more cast her eyes down primly. But Alicia and Gundersnap, who sat on either side of her, could see a sly smile steal across her face.
    “I’ll tell you what I like. I like a well-rigged sailboat in a thumping gale. I like going fast as a scalded cat down the Channel of Salt Tears, then rounding the mark before my brother, and yelling as I pass him by, ‘Suck wind, sucker!’”
    The Duchess of Bagglesnort drew out her fan and started to fan herself rapidly. “Smelling salts! Smelling salts!” she cried. A maid ran up with a jeweled vial, uncorked it, and began waving it under the duchess’s nose. Meanwhile, the other princesses at the table kept their eyes riveted on Kristen.
    “‘Suck wind, sucker’? You said that to your brother, a prince?” asked an astonished princess.
    “You bet your diamond-splattered bodice!” Kristen shot back with a broad grin.
    “Princesses, Princesses!” gasped the Duchess of Bagglesnort. “This conversation is not sparkling.”
    But it is, thought Alicia as they began to eat. Although she would never use such language herself, she was secretly thrilled by her new friend’s boldness. How glad she was that Kristen was her turretmate!
    After dinner a trumpet blew a fanfare. The Queen Mum stood up from her throne at the far end of the longest banquet table, where the third-year princesses sat. The Camp Mistress was even taller than Alicia remembered. A large powdered wig with puffs of hair piled up on her head like towering clouds added to her height. “Welcome, Princesses, to our first official banquet of the camp season. You know your teams for the Color Wars. There shall be exciting contests and competitions throughout our first two-week session and in each of the sessions thereafter. The winning team shall be celebrated in song and dance and even embroidery. Your accomplishments and triumphs shall be stitched into the camp tapestry. You, campers, shall stitch one panel during needlepoint for each session under the superb guidance of our needlepoint counselor, Lady Merry von Schleppenspiel.”
    “Needlepoint?” whispered Kristen to Gundersnap. “Why not a nice big trophy for the winner?”
    “Yes, a trophy, much more practical, I think,” Gundersnap added.
    “If the weather cooperates,” the Camp Mistress continued, “one of our biggest activities for this session shall be songbird catching in the Forest of Chimes. Autumn is the best time to catch these lovely creatures. So as soon as the first leaf turns, all new princesses will dash out to find a bird. And when you catch one, you shall begin training it. Remember, the songbird contest is the most important event of the first session’s Color Wars. It is our belief here at Camp Princess that if one can teach a songbird to sing beautifully, one can lead a nation. Remember, Princesses, you were born to rule!”
    Gundersnap whispered, “‘Born to rule.’ I like that!”
    The tiny Princess Myrella leaned forward. “My cousin from the Kingdom of Blitzen was camp champion in the songbird contest for three years running,” she said.
    “Is she here this year?” Kristen asked.
    “Oh, no. She’s preparing for her wedding. She is to marry the King of Glenbyrren.”
    Gundersnap whispered in Alicia’s ear, “A puppet king. My mother invaded that country two years ago. She really runs the place.”
    “Oh!” Alicia said quietly. She was not sure if she would really like Gundersnap’s mother, Maria Theresa, Empress of All the Slobodks.
    The Queen Mum was saying, “Tonight after dinner the Third Years shall give a concert for us in the Hall of Music with their birds—birds they found in their first year. You shall be amazed how well the Third Years have taught their birds to sing. And soon you too shall be as skillful in teaching your songbirds.
    “But now for dessert.” The Queen Mum raised a long white hand in the air and snapped her fingers. Attendants