Free A Pearl Among Princes by Coleen Paratore Page B

for them unless they feel it inside. Unlike Lu and me, Nuff is more private about her feelings. I recall how silent she became when talk turned to Sir Peter that night at my cottage. I wonder if she likes him. No. I would have picked up something by now. Tattlebug’s been gushing waterfalls of PIT gossip—who was seen walking with whom, who was seen talking with whom, and while she’s often mentioned “Moo-Lu’s moon eyes for Sir Richard,” she hasn’t said a word about Nuff, nor have I heard her mention either of my prospects.
    â€œWell, that’s all fine and dandy that the princes are learning some manners,” Lu says. “I hope they take good notes.” She tucks a lock of her lovely red curls behind her ear. “But I’m in charge of cleaning those royal boys’ bedrooms and I say the lot of ’em, ’cept a few, oughtta be sent back to nursery for some training in aimin’.”
    â€œSay what?” Nuff says.
    â€œThe half of ’em can’t aim their pee in the pot.”
    Nuff and I burst out laughing.
    â€œThat’s not very nice, Lu,” I say.
    â€œNothing nice about wiping up pee neither,” Lu says, swishing away the last of the creamy peanut and strawberry sandwich crumbs from her lap. “You’re lucky you don’t have brothers, Gracie.”
    Lu has four of them. Nuff has two.
    â€œA brother would have been nice,” I say. “A sister too.” I look from Nuff to Lu. “But, then again, I’ve got two sisters right here.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Nuff says.
    â€œFor always,” Lu agrees.
    â€œHave you heard any gossip about Captain Jessie?” I ask.
    â€œNot a word,” Nuff says.
    â€œMe neither,” Lu says. “But enough of that old goat, let’s talk about the ball! My aunt Lisha gave me a pair of red shoes that match my gown perfectly. What are you wearing, Nuff?”
    â€œThe same blue dress as last year, just sewing in some shiny bits about the hem.”
    We lie back on the soft grass to rest before afternoon chores. The day is warm and it is quiet. Sleep sweeps over me.
    I am standing by Captain Jessie’s boat, staring out at the waves, foaming as if a storm approaches. Could I sail this myself? I wonder. Can I really leave Miramore? But then there’s the shoals and fiery whirlpools. I sit on the sand to think. I lie back and close my eyes. As soon as I do, I see the faces.
    â€œHere I come,” I say, and now I am floating cloud high in the sky, beneath the flapping wings of a giant gray gander, suspended from her beak by two shiny ribbons in a purple-rimmed clamshell with dainty ridges, arms wrapped about my knees tucked to my chest, rocking ever so gently, peaceful and safe. Will you heed the call, Gracepearl , Mother asks, her voice so close I can nearly touch her. This birthday, the gift will surprise you, my dear . . .
    â€œMother, where are you, what do you mean?” And then she is gone and the goose is singing, “Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, when the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and . . .”
    â€œAhh!” I sit up, shaking, a cold sweat on my forehead.
    â€œWhat is it, Gracie?” Lu asks, waking too, touching my arm.
    â€œA nightmare?” Nuff says.
    â€œNo,” I say, “just too many confusing dreams.”

CHAPTER 14
    Taming Onions
    I had a little pony,
His name was Dapple Gray;
I lent him to a lady
To ride a mile away.
She whipped him, she slashed him,
She rode him through the mire;
I would not lend my pony now
For all the lady’s hire.
    When I report to the kitchen for my afternoon duties, Nora Baker is ready and waiting, no “hello” or “how was your lunch,” just a hurried nod toward the pile of onions on the counter. “There ya go, girl.”
    Oh, no. Not the onions. They make my eyes