Free Maggie Malone Gets the Royal Treatment by Jenna McCarthy Page A

you please. You lead and I’ll follow.”
    Penelope doesn’t look happy at all, which gives me just the courage I need to march onto the dance floor. I’ll show that cruel cousin of mine how it’s done.
    As Prince Henry leads me by the small of my back toward the dance floor, I start flipping through my brain trying to think of some dances I know. Wait a minute! Stella and I learned the Cowgirl Booty Scoot on MeTube last summer. I’m really good at that! There’s a lot of kicking and twisting, though. I wonder if I can pull that off with this heavy cape around my neck. But when you think about it, what choice do I have?
    â€œI don’t know if you know this one, Henry, but it’s pretty easy,” I whisper as we reach the edge of the black-and-white marble dance floor. “I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly. Just hang on a second!”
    I race over to the orchestra and ask a guy who’s sort of hanging out to one side if they can play something country. He looks at me like I’m crazy.
    â€œCountry and western?” I have to yell over the music so he can hear me. “You know, cowboys, horses, pickup trucks. Country!”
    â€œOh!” he shouts back with a smile. “I believe we can do that, Princess Mimi!”
    After some whispering and flipping of sheet music, the musicians start playing a twang-y sort of song. It’s not one I know, but it sounds like it’ll do.
    I pull Prince Henry out to the middle of the dance floor and count off in my head just like Stella and I do before we start our routine. Five, six, seven, eight. I start with a smooth slide to the right and a clap, then put my hands on my hips and I slide back to the left. Next I do what’s called a kick-ball-change two times to the right. Then I shake my shoulders. And shake my shoulders some more. Forward and back with more claps in between. This bit’s a little tricky. The key is to get really loose. So that’s what I do.
    People are starting to leave the dance floor—they probably feel bad since I know this dance so well—but I’m too focused on my moves to give it another thought. I do one more kick-ball-change to the left before I hit my favorite part, where you slap yourself on the booty just before you turn to the right and start the whole thing over again.
    This is awesome! I’m totally loose, shaking my shoulders, leaning down and then up, when I look over to see if Prince Henry is getting into it yet. He most definitely is not. He’s actually just standing there with his mouth hanging open. Obviously he’s amazed by my killer moves.
    I glance around the room. A few people are staring, some are whispering and pointing, and Penelope is doubled over laughing. Maybe this isn’t the best dance to be doing at a royal wedding, now that I think about it. But it’s all I know. And I always stick to what I know.
    Henry hesitates a little and then comes over to me. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not at all familiar with this dance, Princess,” he yells. “Would you mind showing me that turning bit again?”
    I count in my head again ( five, six, seven, eight ) then I start at the beginning, but more slowly this time. It takes him a few tries, but Henry gets the steps down and then he starts getting into it too. When he does, a bunch of the wedding party trickles over with their dates, and Henry and I teach them the steps. Pretty soon we’ve got at least four lines of people dancing. And then the dance floor is packed with dancers clapping and laughing and slapping their booties.
    I’m having the best time in all of history when I see the queen stand up. It looks like she’s walking straight toward me, but I’m crossing my fingers that she’s just going to the loo or checking out the cake table or something. But she’s not.
    â€œSo, Princess,” says Her Royal Highness the Queen of Wincastle, coming to