Free The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness by Catherine Marshall Page A

said.
    A few minutes later, Mountie entered the schoolroom. Ruby Mae leapt from her seat and pulled the little girl aside.
    â€œI got something to show you,” Ruby Mae said excitedly.
    â€œDon’t care,” Mountie said softly. “I know I ain’t no princess, but that’s all right. ’Cause I got my ’magination. Teacher said.”
    Ruby Mae pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her dress. “Here. This is to help your imagination. For when it gets tuckered out and needs some help rememberin’.”
    Mountie stared at the little piece of paper. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. “I-it’s my dolly!” she whispered.
    â€œMr. Halliday let me cut her out of the catalog.”
    â€œCan I keep hold of this for a little while?”
    â€œYou can keep it, Mountie. It’s for you to have.” Ruby Mae looked away. “I know she ain’t a real dolly, but she’s easier to carry.”
    â€œTh-thank you, Ruby Mae!” Mountie whispered.
    Ruby Mae had never seen Mountie grin so wide. “Shucks, Mountie. Ain’t nothin’ much,” she muttered. Quickly she ran back to her seat.
    â€œWhat was that about?” Bessie asked.
    â€œNothin’. Just ’cause we’re princesses don’t mean I can’t talk to the common folk, do it?”
    â€œDon’t get all riled,” Bessie said. “You ain’t mad at me ’cause our pas was beatin’ up on each other in church, are you?”
    â€œNaw,” Ruby Mae gave a short laugh. “You mad at me?”
    Bessie giggled. “Naw. Can’t help it if’n the grownups act like kids. It’s a good thing we can act proper-like.”
    Ruby Mae glanced back over her shoulder. Mountie was hugging the little piece of paper to her chest as if it were a real doll. “Yep,” Ruby Mae said softly. “It’s a good thing we can act proper-like.”

Fifteen
    I nstead of reading from a book today,” Christy said later that morning, “I thought maybe I’d tell you a story.”
    Her announcement was met with enthusiastic applause. Even the older children loved it when she told stories. Fairy tales, myths, mysteries—it didn’t matter what. She wasn’t sure if it was her storytelling ability, or the fact that they preferred just about anything to the prospect of another arithmetic or spelling lesson.
    Christy sat on the edge of her desk. The children pulled their desks and chairs closer. She couldn’t help noticing that Ruby Mae, Bessie, and Clara were sitting apart from the others. She wondered if it was their doing, or if the other children were keeping their distance.
    â€œThis is the story of three fair maidens,” Christy began.
    â€œTeacher?”
    â€œYes, Little Burl?”
    â€œWhat’s a maiden?”
    â€œA maiden is a young girl.” Christy cleared her throat. “One day, these three maidens were walking through the woods when they—”
    â€œTeacher?”
    â€œYes, Creed.”
    â€œDon’t these maidens go by names?”
    â€œThat’s a very good question, Creed. Let’s see. Their names were Lucinda, Drusilda, and—”
    â€œPearl!” Creed exclaimed.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œI’m right partial to Pearl, Teacher. If’n it don’t get in the way of your storytellin’.”
    â€œPearl it is.” Christy smiled to herself. She’d long since learned that with the aid of her students, a ten-minute story could take an hour.
    â€œAs I was saying, Lucinda, Drusilda, and Pearl were walking through the woods on a bright summer day when suddenly the air was filled with the most beautiful sound their ears had ever heard. ‘It sounds like the first call of birds in the morning,’ said Lucinda. ‘It sounds like a church bell on Christmas morning,’ said Drusilda. ‘It sounds like angels singing,’ said