Free The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales by Gail Carson Levine

floor was hard, but you expected a floor to be uncomfortable. You didn’t expect it from a bed piled with twenty mattresses.
    Lorelei turned over on her stomach. No better. She rolled back. Could she, Lorelei, actually become a princess? She’d passed every test so far. If she married Prince Nicholas, she’d live in a castle. And so would her father. She giggled. Trudy would be a real lady-in-waiting.
    Trudy! She sat up. She’d forgotten to find out if Trudy had gotten home safely. What kind of queen would she make if she couldn’t remember her subjects?
    She lay down again. She’d ask first thing in the morning. What could the test tomorrow be like? Would they ask her questions? She didn’t know anything about being a princess. She didn’t know much about being a blacksmith’s daughter either.
    What if they asked her about laws! About geography! About how to sit on a throne! Lorelei was awake all night.
    In the morning the Chief Royal Chambermaid led the two maidens to the throne room. Lorelei’s bones ached, and the skin under her gown was black and blue.
    King Humphrey and Queen Hermione and Prince Nicholas were sitting on their thrones. All the courtiers and subjects had been cleared out for the big moment.
    The first thing Lorelei wanted to do was to find out about Trudy. Then she’d take whatever test they wanted. She’d probably fail it. But at least she’d know about Trudy.
    The other maiden looked so rested and . . . Lorelei hated to admit it, but the other one was beautiful. Maybe by now Nicholas wanted her to win.
    â€œGood morning, princesses or damsels,” the king boomed.
    â€œDid you sleep—” the queen began.
    â€œDid you find out—” Lorelei began.
    The doors to the throne room burst open. A man rushed in carrying a child in his arms. Lorelei thought the little boy didn’t look right.
    King Humphrey stood. “What or why—”
    â€œSire! I am a poor woodcutter! My son is sick, and I have no money to pay a wisewoman to cure him. I have nowhere to turn, except to you.”
    â€œOh dear,” Lorelei said. She ran to the child. “Does your forehead pulse?”
    The boy nodded.
    â€œOh dear. Does it hurt to—”
    Nicholas interrupted. “If you were a princess here,” he asked the crocodile princess, “what would you do?”
    This is the test! Lorelei thought. Maybe the boy wasn’t really sick. But he looked sick.
    The crocodile princess said, “They should be forbidden to trouble you with their problems. This man and his son must be put to death. That will cure the boy.” And she smiled her slow smile.
    â€œWhat would you do, Princess Lorelei?” Nicholas asked.
    What was she supposed to say? Did that horrible one give the right answer? But if you couldn’t help people—if you had to kill them to make them leave you alone—then she, Lorelei, didn’t want to be a princess.
    But then she’d have to give Nicholas up.
    Well, it didn’t matter what the right answer was. Somebody was sick! “Oh dear. I used to get sick when I was a little—uh—princess. I still do sometimes.” She turned to the queen. “Do you have any betony?” Lorelei was sure she was ruining everything, because the queen looked so upset. “I need the leaves of the chaste tree, too. If you don’t have that, some bugloss will do. Where’s the kitchen?”
    Queen Hermione didn’t know what to say. So she rang for the Chief Royal Serving Maid.
    â€œPrincess Lorelei would be kind to our subjects, Father,” Nicholas said, while they waited for the serving maid. “Whether or not she can feel a pea under twenty mattresses.” He dropped to his knees so hard, he thought he had broken a kneecap. “Ouch!”
    â€œOh dear,” Lorelei said. A pea? What was he talking about?
    â€œMy darling princess.” Nicholas took