Unicorns? Get Real!

almost an hour when Gundersnap said, “Let’s step back and see vot is vot.”
    The three princesses stepped back and looked at their needlework.
    Alicia scowled. “Something’s wrong.”
    “This doesn’t look like anything,” said Kristen.
    “It’s not a horse. It’s not a unicorn.” Gundersnap sighed. “It’s a mess.”
    “A royal mess,” Alicia muttered.
    “We better go back for now. I must think,” Gundersnap said wearily.
    The girls made their way down the spiraling staircase out through the secret door, then began walking back through the gallery. They soon heard the clack of feet, and froze in their tracks as they saw the Duchess of Bagglesnort rounding the corner.
    “By Saint Jude,” Alicia whispered. Saint Jude was the patron saint of desperate situations.
    “Hello, Miladies!” the Duchess of Bagglesnort said in an oozy voice. “It’s quiet time, is it not?”
    “Yes, we were reading in the library,” replied Kristen. “About…uh, Saint Claudia…the patron saint of beautiful women.”
    “Oh. Bravo. Yes, my dear. Fascinating, is she not?”
    “Very,” Kristen said, hoping the Snort would not ask any more questions.
    “I myself am on the way to the library to research some of my more illustrious family members. You know I am a direct descendant of Simon the Good, who led a crusade to the Holy Land. So I must hurry off.”
    The princesses breathed a sigh of relief as they watched her wide skirts swish around a corner. “Crusades!” Kristen snarled. “A lousy excuse for war if there ever was one. May a thousand camels relieve themselves on your ancestor’s grave, Duchess!”
    “Kristen!” Alicia exclaimed.
     
    That evening in the princesses’ salon, gloom had settled in. The princesses were troubled and confused about the mess their stitches had made. No one was more troubled than Gundersnap. Had Berwynna misled her? It hadn’t been this way last time when they had stitched the Ghost Princess. As soon as they had begun sewing, the picture became very clear. Now it was as if their stitches had been scrambled and made no sense. Had something happened to the tapestry? Why was it misbehaving? Was it no longer magical? All these questions ran through her head, and Princess Gundersnap slept not a wink for the entire night.

Chapter 7
    BASIC UNICORN

    “You can’t cut Basic Unicorn,” Kristen pleaded when Gundersnap said she planned to stay behind and work on the tapestry.
    “You’ll get into trouble,” Myrella said.
    “I am already in trouble,” Gundersnap said. “How can I care about a fantastical beast?” Then she muttered something about not giving a royal hoot about unicorns and that all she cared about was her own tapestry.
    “How can you care about a fantastical tapestry?” Alicia rejoined.
    A flush crept up Gundersnap’s cheeks.
    “Touché,” whispered Kristen. “Point won.”
    “Come along now, Gundersnap!” Alicia took the princess’s hand and gave her a yank.
    “Oh, all right!” Gundersnap said, and then muttered something in Slobo under her breath.
    The princesses were to report to the riding counselor and head unicorn wrangler, Lady Frances, known as Frankie. They made their way to the royal stables in the inner ward of the castle, along with a dozen or more other princesses. All were careful to pick up their skirts as they daintily stepped over piles of horse poop.
    “Is it true that unicorns drool gold spit when they’re nervous?” one princess asked.
    “And what about the jewel at the base of their horns?” said another.
    “Oh, I think only one in a thousand unicorns has that.”
    “More like one in a million!”
     
    None of the princesses had ever been on a unicorn roundup. They crowded into the small tack room of the royal stables, where the saddles and the bridles of the ponies were kept. This was where Frankie liked to have her “get ready, get riding” sessions, as she called them. Today, however, it was a little different. When the princesses entered, there were three posters on easels.
    Lady Frances came in through another door. She had a loping stride somewhat similar to a horse in a slow canter. Frankie was unlike any other counselor at Camp Princess. She always wore her hair braided into two very long pigtails. On her head she wore a bizarre contraption that had a deep brim and tied under her chin with a leather cord. The weirdest thing of all was that she wore breeches like a man, and then over those, beautiful leather