Free Let Slip The Princesses of War by David Schenck Page A

the best times of my life!  And it’s been a very long life, so that’s saying something.”
    Cinderella came up alongside them and took one of Emily’s hands in her own.  “It must have been a long life if you’re Fairy Godmother’s godfather.”
    “Oh, Old Tom was old when the world was young.  I saw the first rain drop, I caught the first snowflake on my tongue.” He stuck out his tongue and mimed catching a snowflake.  Emily screamed and giggled as she was tipped back.  “But don’t worry!  I’m still spry!” And he jumped high in the air and Emily giggled and screamed again. 
    We walked on a little while and then Tom stopped.  “OK, here we are.” We all looked around.  There was nothing but forest.  It was a pretty little stretch of forest, and we hadn’t seen a single monster, but it was just forest.  No palace, no house, no pavilion and no tea.  Then Tom reached down and, I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but he just grabbed a corner of the world and peeled it away.  On the other side of the flap of the world, which he still held in his hand, was an entirely different forest.  He motioned us forward.  Once we’d all passed through the opening he let the flap drop. 
    We stood on a gentle mountainside overlooking a valley. Where the Great Forest had been dark and a little scary, here there was abundant sunlight, colorful birds filed the air and a sparkling river winked at us from the valley floor.  Tom stretched his arms “Welcome to my home!” At the far end of the valley was a waterfall, and a farmhouse.  It looked like a long walk, but the clean air and the sunlight filled us with energy.  Just then four little mountain ponies equipped with colorful blankets and saddles came into view.
    As Tom mounted his pony he looked at the sky and said, “Perfect, we should reach the house just about tea time.” And sure enough our early morning sun had somehow climbed into early afternoon. 
    The ride down the mountain was peaceful.  The gentle swaying of the ponies, the idle chatter of the birds.  It felt more like a homecoming than a visit to someplace new.
    We rode up to the farmhouse and dismounted.  Cindy took the acorn from her pocket “If it’s alright with you, Tom, I’d like to let the horses out to graze.  They always prefer natural grass to the magic hay.”
    Tom nodded his assent and then led us inside.  I wish Cinderella had been there to see how Tom ushered Ben inside without hesitation, but she was off taking care of the horses.  Damn!
    His farm house was, well, charming.  The floor was well-worn red brick, on a large hearth burnt a fire of logs, a couple of high-backed settees faced each other on either side of the fire.  In the middle of the room stood a long table of plain boards placed on trestles, with benches down each side.  Rows of spotless plates gleamed from the shelves of the dresser at the far end of the room, and from the rafters overhead hung bundles of dried herbs, nets of onions, and baskets of eggs. It seemed a place where heroes could fitly feast after victory, where weary harvesters could line up in scores along the table and keep their Harvest Home, or where two or three friends of simple tastes could sit about as they pleased and eat and drink and talk in comfort and contentment.
    The table was already laden with food and drink for our tea.  Tom served us cups of delicious tea (blackberry with a touch of ginger I think), and plates of charming sandwiches and cakes and pastries.  It was just like tea with the queen.  As always, Ben lay at my feet and I fed him snacks from my plate.
    After tea, Tom took us on a tour of his home.  While the front part was simple and comfortable, the rest of the house was filled to bursting with gold and jewels and art.  Enough for 100 kingdoms. 
    “Where did you get all this?” Pea asked the question that we all wanted to ask.
    “Oh,” He shrugged, “people come here from time to time, seeking