Free Maggie Malone Gets the Royal Treatment by Jenna McCarthy

delicately slices off a chunk of meat and the rest of the room does the same. She pops it into her mouth and sighs happily. Everyone else follows. Except me. I just can’t do it.
    â€œIs there something wrong with your lamb, Princess Mimi?” Penelope asks with a big smirk. “If so, I’ll be happy to alert the chef.”
    Sorry, my fleecy little friend , I think to myself, shoving a bite into my mouth. It’s horribly sweet, and the mint makes it taste like those Life Savers Granny Malone always keeps in her purse. Who puts mint on top of meat, anyway? I chew and I chew, but my throat seems to have forgotten how to swallow. It’s all I can do not to gag.
    I smile sweetly at Penelope and keep right on chewing. I’m trying to figure out how I can spit this minty wad into my napkin when I hear fifty forks being placed on their plates. The queen has stopped eating—which means we have to stop too. Make that, we get to stop. I grab my water goblet and take a huge swig, and then another. Finally that meat goes down. I make a promise right then and there that I will never complain about my mom’s meatloaf ever again.
    Dessert is cherries jubilee, and while cherries aren’t exactly my favorite (I normally pluck the cherry off the top of a hot fudge sundae and give it to Mickey or Stella), after that Life Saver lamb, I’m grateful for any other taste in my mouth. Most of all, I’m glad this meal is just about over. The reception will be the fun part. Plus I’ll have room to roam and I can stay far, far away from Princess Penelope.

Chapter 16

    When I Get My Groove On
    After the luncheon, the wedding party is led to the part of Wincastle Palace’s golf-course-sized yard known as “the meadow” for what Amelia tells me will be an eight-hour reception. Eight hours? I’m hoping we get another meal or else I might pass out on the dance floor.
    Talk about tents! It looks like the circus has come to town—all of them in the world, all at once. As we trot through the tent city to our assigned seats, there are cheers all around. Yes, princesses get applause just for showing up and being born royal.
    Everyone stands as the Archduke of Wincastle introduces the bride and groom. Cousin Clementine really does look beautiful and her new husband Prince Clayton isn’t bad either—except for that shock of neon red hair on his head. Yowza! I wonder if it glows in the dark. That would be all kinds of awesome at Friday night Glo-Bowl.
    The bride and groom have their first dance. It’s pretty magical. She’s as graceful as a ballerina, and they both move like those professional dancers on TV. When they’re finished, people start flooding out onto the dance floor.
    Prince Henry turns to me. I have to say, it’s not just those sparkly green eyes or that adorable grin or those Chiclet-white teeth that get me with this guy. Those things are nothing compared to how nice and well, charming he is. My mom is always saying that it’s what’s inside that counts, and she must be right because Prince Henry makes me go all gooey inside.
    â€œSo, what’s your favorite dance of the moment, Princess?” Prince Henry asks. “Everyone knows you to be the best dancer in all of Wincastle.”
    â€œMe?” I answer. I didn’t know this about Princess Mimi! “A great dancer? Aw, well, you know…”
    I’m really wishing I’d taken my mom up on those fancy dance classes she wanted me to take back in fourth grade. I’d thrown a bit of a hissy fit about going after my big cousin Clare told me how the boys’ sweaty hands get the girls’ white gloves all slimy. Blech! Mom finally caved in and said I didn’t have to go. She said I would regret it someday, though, and I do. Right about now.
    â€œYour modesty is most endearing, Princess,” Henry says, standing and pulling my chair back. “A dance of your choosing, if