Unicorns? Get Real!

princesses passed through and made their way up the spiraling staircase of a turret that no other campers or staff seemed to know existed.
    When they reached the top, they were in a dimly lit space. On the wall hung the unfinished tapestry. The princesses’ fine needlework from last session stood out against the rest of the tapestry, which was old and faded. It was these stitches in bright colorful thread—made by Alicia, Gundersnap, and Kristen—that brought new life to the tapestry. The picture they had sewn showed a lovely medieval princess standing with a handsome knight in golden armor. At their feet was an empty birdcage. They stood at the edge of the Forest of Chimes and, if one looked very closely, one could see the figure of a very bent little old lady.
    “See, Myrella,” said Alicia. “That’s her—Berwynna, the crone.”
    “But everything looks finished to me, Gundersnap,” Kristen said. “And you’re sure that Berwynna said that we should come here and sew something?”
    “Say the poem again,” Myrella asked. “The sew and sew part.”
    Gundersnap recited:
“The heart insists, the mind rebels
And says it can’t be so .
But listen to your heart I say ,
And sew and sew and sew .”
    “I don’t get it,” Kristen said. “What is it that your heart is insisting upon and your mind rebelling against?”
    Gundersnap bit her lower lip lightly, and her forehead crinkled into a frown. “It’s hard to explain the mind rebelling part. I think it has to do with the unicorn. Empress Mummy taught us that such things were nonsense.”
    “And what about the heart part?” Alicia asked.
    “That’s about Menschmik.” Her eyes filled.
    “But I don’t even see the outline of this unicorn that you say is here. Where?” Kristen asked, leaning forward and squinting her eyes at the tapestry.
    Gundersnap walked up to the tapestry and touched her finger to the worn cloth. “See right here—now is that a horse or a unicorn?”
    The other three princesses came closer and suddenly they saw it. There was something there—definitely.
    “I think…I think…” Alicia began slowly narrowing her eyes as she looked at the outline. “I think it’s a unicorn.”
    “Or perhaps,” said Kristen, “it’s a half horse, half unicorn?”
    “Or a unicorn changing into a horse?” Gundersnap said. She was relieved that at least they saw it.
    They stepped back from the tapestry, looked again, and then stepped up close. This went on for several minutes as the four princesses tried to make a shape of the faint figure that at one moment seemed to be one thing and then the next something else.
    “It looks like a unicorn to me,” said Alicia.
    “No, it looks like a horse,” said Kristen.
    “Maybe,” said Myrella.
    “There can be no maybes!” Gundersnap replied.
    “Oh well, then.” Myrella studied the outline again, then turned to Gundersnap. “A horse?”
    “Not a horse.” Gundersnap sighed. “Not big enough. Just a pony.” She felt a twinge deep within her. Then she squared her shoulders. “Enough of this talk. We won’t know anything until we start to sew.”
    “She’s right,” Alicia said. “Things will become much clearer when we begin stitching.”
    “But what to stitch?” Myrella asked in a small, exasperated voice.
    “Just plunge in,” Alicia said. “Remember that’s what you told us last session when Gundersnap and I were still afraid of the water and didn’t know how to swim. ‘Just plunge in,’ you kept saying.”
    Myrella remembered. Both she and Kristen, coming from water kingdoms of isles and marshes, were excellent swimmers.
    Just as the last time the princesses had sewn on the unfinished tapestry, there was a row of needles already threaded and tucked into the fabric, as if waiting for the princesses to begin. They each took a needle and then Gundersnap, like a general commanding an army, began to issue orders in a style that would have made her mum proud.
    “I’ll take the head,” Gundersnap said. “Alicia, you take the tail.” She pointed to a place on the tapestry.
    “I guess that leaves the legs to me,” said Kristen.
    “No,” Gundersnap said. “You’re tall, Kristen. Myrella’s short. You do the top of the head, the mane, and the ears. And leave the legs and the hooves to Myrella.”
    “Hooves?” Myrella said with disbelief. She squinted at the tapestry. Gundersnap must be seeing a lot more than any of them, she thought.
     
    They had been stitching for