Unicorns? Get Real!

Katrina, a tireless dancer as well as a tireless flirt—see box on her simultaneous romances with the Duke of Bottomsley and the Prince of Argylle—when asked about her romance with His Majesty, replied, “No comment.” Will the fetching Katrina be the sixth Mrs. H.?’”
    In the midst of Alicia’s reading, the parlor door was flung open and a small, rugged man came whirling in like a high-speed snowball.
    “Gortle!” Gundersnap yelped, then jumped up and ran toward the dwarf. She bent over to hug him fiercely. She hoped that the other princesses saw that she did not pick him up. People were always picking up dwarves as if they were toddlers and tossing them about. Her mother the empress loved scooping up the small man and bouncing him about as if he were a large rubber ball. But he was a man, not a toy.
    “Oh Gortle! Gortle! I am so glad you made it through the blizzard.”
    “Strange weather for late July, I do say,” he replied, brushing snow from his cape. He removed a funny little cap with earflaps to reveal a thick mass of deep rusty-red curls. His mustache swooped up in twists on either side of a broad nose that reminded Gundersnap of a breakfast bun. He was short, the top of his head not an inch above Gundersnap’s waist.
    “Oh, that’s Palacyndra for you,” Kristen said.
    “Oh Gortle.” Gundersnap turned toward Kristen. “These are my turretmates, Princess Kristen, Princess Alicia, and Princess Myrella.”
    “Heard all about you, Princesses,” he said with a merry glint in his bright blue eyes. Kristen shook his hand, bending over slightly in just the manner Gundersnap had instructed them to use when greeting a dwarf. But Myrella, who was just his size, perhaps an inch or so taller, walked up and gave him a firm handshake, looking him straight in the eye.
    “So pleased to make your acquaintance.” She heard Princesses Zelenka and Millicent snicker. Gundersnap shot them an absolutely poisonous glance.
    “Any news from Mummy and the invasion? Hottompot, isn’t it?” Gundersnap asked.
    A fleeting shadow crossed Gortle’s face. “Oh, I’ve brought a letter, but plenty of time to read that later,” the dwarf replied.
    “Come have a s’morl,” Alicia offered.
    At just that moment, Princesses Zelenka, Millicent, and Morwenna approached. Myrella got a dreadful feeling in her tummy as she saw her old turretmates. Here comes royal trouble, she thought to herself.
    Millicent stooped down in a crouch. “Tell me, little man, do you tumble?”
    “Uh-oh!” Alicia, Myrella, and Kristen all said at once.
    Gundersnap was on the Princess Millicent like a cat pouncing on a mouse. And the only tumbling to be seen was a swirl of petticoats and flying tiaras as the two princesses rolled across the parlor floor. When they stopped, Gundersnap leaped to her feet and dragged up the stunned Princess Millicent by her frothy lace collar. “His name is Gortle Zurf, not ‘little man,’ you royal nincompoop. He does not tumble. He does not talk in a funny voice. Nor does he ride a dog for your entertainment, or jump through hoops. He is an adult and my friend. He is here for my companionship and not as entertainment for you. Got that, Princess?” Gundersnap rapped her knuckles on Princess Millicent’s head.
    “Yes, yes, of course.”
    “I’ve never heard of a dwarf that didn’t tumble,” Princess Morwenna said.
    “And I’ve never heard of a pious princess who cheats in Color Wars!” Gundersnap roared at the dour Morwenna. A titter mixed with gasps surged through the Princess Parlor.
    “That’s a direct hit!” Kristen whispered.
    Indeed it was, for in last session’s canoeing race it had been none other than the excessively pious and constantly prayerful Princess Morwenna and Princess Zelenka who had tried to sideswipe the Purple team, nearly forcing them onto the rocks. Those cheating Crimsons!
    Gortle conducted himself with perfect calm, not even seeming to notice Princess Morwenna’s rude behavior. For her part, Princess Gundersnap set about to correct anybody’s notions of Gortle as a source of dwarfish entertainment. First she played chess with him. This was followed by a performance of Gundersnap’s songbird, whom she had taught to sing and march to a rousing Slobodkonian tune called “The March of the Fifth Artillery.”
    “Your mum the empress would be so pleased,” said Gortle. Then there were more s’morls and a tour of the castle. Gortle was entertained royally and not the