Palace at Phanff, December 31

[kitchen_maid]

From here.


Amy is very good at sneaking out of her room in the palace at Phanff. Unfortunately, she usually does so by climbing down a wisteria vine, and she's pretty sure that's going to be beyond Meg, given presense of the gown and absence of practice.

So when the girls emerge from the broom cupboard opposite her bedroom door, it is necessary to make their way (not perhaps as stealthily as they think they are managing to be) down out of the turret, though several corridors, and to the main courtyard, when Meg can "arrive."

There's rather a lot of giggling, all told, but they manage.

And then Amy says, in a loud and very bright voice, "Comtesse! This is a pleasant surprise. Welcome to Phantasmorania."

Comments

[balletrat]

*Meg dips a deep and extravagant curtsey.*

Ma chere Princesse, *she responds, equally loud and equally bright - and with her French accent somewhat emphasized, for good measure.*

I hope I am not intruding on your tres belle palais! It's only I find myself in some trouble on the road -

[kitchen_maid]

"You could never intrude," says Amy, holding both hands out to Meg and then kissing her on both cheeks as Meg rises.

"Though I am frightfully dismayed to hear you are in any sort of trouble."

Amy, it appears, subscribes to the theory of when it doubt, break out the italics.

[balletrat]

*It's a good theory! Meg rather believes in it herself, though at the moment extravagantly French phrases and gestures are filling the gap quite nicely.*

It's only - comment dit-on? - a wheel, a wheel on one of these si terrible carriages, *she says, waving her hand in a Lofty fashion.*

My servants are of course staying at the local inn, but I thought peut-etre I might throw myself upon your hospitality -

[kitchen_maid]

"Oh, of course," says Amy, who, lacking extravagantly French phrases and gestures must continue to rely on italics. "Why, we should be delighted to have you, Marguerite. And we wouldn't dream of asking you to stay in an inn."

She links one arm through Meg's.

"You must come inside. What an ordeal you've had. We'll get you something hot to drink, I think."

[balletrat]

Merci beaucoup, ma cherie.

*Meg accepts Amy's arm, sauntering through the hallways with her skirts rustling.*

And you will introduce me to your family, oui? I have been so longing to meet them -

[kitchen_maid]

"Oh, but of course," says Amy, as they go into the palace. "Though I fear the only of my sisters to join us for Christmas this year is Emerald. She and her husband, Englebert, Grand Duke of Bertinberg and their boys, Philbert and Colbert, and they may be off on some sort of sleigh ride. But my royal Mama and Papa will, no doubt, want to meet you."

[balletrat]

I shall bien sur convey to them greetings from my Most Noble Father, *Meg says, managing to pronounce the capital letters,* le Compte de Syr.

*She heaves a dramatic sigh, looking very demure indeed.* He has always been so triste that he had no sons who could presume to marry one of the beautiful daughters of your house -

[kitchen_maid]

"Well, perhaps in a future generation," says Amy. It's really only a matter of time, after all, before every single noble in Europe is related to every single other noble in Europe.

Amy pushes open a door on the left and comes into a cheery, sunny drawing room.

"Papa, Mama, we've an unexpected visitor," she says. "This is Marguerite, the Comtesse de Syr. She was very kind to me while I was away. Marguerite, my parents, King Hulderbrand and Queen Rhodehesia of Phantasmorania."

[balletrat]

*Another curtsey, even deeper than before; Meg's chin appears to be in serious danger of bumping into her knees.*

It is my tres grand honneur, your Majesties. I hope I'm not intruding in any way -

[kitchen_maid]

Amy's parents (who, alas, do not have their own icons) rise.

"Nonsense," says her father, "always glad to have company for the holidays. Syr, eh? That's in France?"

"Oh, honestly, Hulderbrand, of course it's in France," says her mother. She turns to Meg. "I trust this unexpected arrival is not an indication that anything is wrong."

[balletrat]

Nothing except the wheel of my coach, *the countess Marguerite de Syr explains again, with a small knowing smile for the vagaries of the roads.*

Transportation, c'est si difficile - it's so difficult, you understand. And your daughter was so kind as to offer me hospitality for the night; I couldn't have stayed at one of those horrible inns in the village. My father wouldn't have stood for it. You have of course heard of my father, the Comte de Syr -

*From Meg's tone, it's very clear that everyone who is anyone knows the Comte de Syr.*

[kitchen_maid]

Never let it be said that the rules of the grand and noble country of Phantasmorania are not anyone.

"Oh, of course," says King Hulderbrand. "I believe we met at . . . was it that ball in Brussels, Rodehesia?"

"No, no," says Queen Rodehesia. "No, I'm quite certain it was at a tea in the gardens in Crystalvia, when we visited Pearl."

"My dear, I'm quite sure you're thinking of--"

Amy, realizing this could take a while and has no actual answer, interrupts. "I thought I might take Marguerite to see the city, if that's all right."

[balletrat]

Queen Rodehesia sounds very faintly horrified.

"To see the city? Amy, dear, are you sure -"

"I should greatly like to see this city," Meg interjects, hastily.

"My Noble Father, the Comte de Syr, he is very interested in - er - in marketplaces. Toujours he wishes to see marketplaces in other cities; I would love to be able to tell him about this one."

[kitchen_maid]

"And we'll be back in time for dinner and the production," Amy promises. "Besides, our capital is hardly anything to be ashamed of."

"Of course," says her father. "Especially if the Comtesse needs to report to her father on the marketplace. Be sure you show her the onion seller, my dear."

He kisses his daughter's cheek.

"Run along."

[balletrat]

*The departure from the presence of Their Majesties, of course, demands that the Comtesse Marguerite de Syr sink to the floor in yet another curtsey.

Clearly, they're just very polite people, in France.*

Merci again for the tres genereuse kindness you have shown to me, *she says, eyes wide, and sweeps back up to her feet.*

Amy-ethyst? Allons-y?

[kitchen_maid]

They leave the King and Queen of Phantasmorania still debating about exactly when and where it was they met the (mostly) fictional Comte de Syr.

"They'll be trying to figure it out for weeks you know, Meg," says Amy, in the hallway. "Which will make a nice change from talking about the wedding, I think. Now we'd best find you a cloak. Which, I fear, means going all the way back up to my room."

[balletrat]

And you know what the fun part is, *Meg says, giggling,* is that technically? They're all right - oh, zut, if I'd known I would've brought mine. My cloak, I mean. Although to be fair it doesn't quite match this one -

[kitchen_maid]

"Oh, don't worry about it," says Amy. "I've got one that should match that dress very well, and it might be a little long on you, but not much and cloaks are supposed to be long and sweepy and dramatic anyway."

The cloak, which is almost exactly the same blue velvet as the dress and is very warm and snuggly, is obtained, and the girls set out down the path to the City of Phanff.

"Oh!" says Amy, suddenly. "I should warn you about Gaston. Prince Gaston de Disné, to be exact. He's even more boorish and brainless than most of them, I'm not sure why Mama invited him for Christmas, but she did. I suspect old habit. Anyway, he doesn't have the prospect of marrying an Ordinary Princess to scare him away, alas, so he's around. But we'll hide if we see him." This last with a firm nod.

[balletrat]

*Meg wraps her cloak more tightly around her, peering ahead of them on the road nervously.*

- eh bien, if anyone asks? I've been engaged since infancy to a Prince who is very rich, very powerful, and very prone to jealousy. Possibly the King of Uzbekistan, does that sound imposing enough - oh!

*Meg has just caught sight of the City of Phanff, spread out before them like - well - something from a storybook.*

[kitchen_maid]

Amy beams at her. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

She has a fair amount of national pride, after all. And Phanff, for all the mun still isn't sure how to pronounce it, is truly a lovely city.

[balletrat]

C'est bien adorable, *Meg agrees, honestly, and her eyes are bright.

It's been a long time since Meg has seen a city.

(Unless you count that time on Antar, but Meg was a little too busy running for help to appreciate it.)

She turns to grin at her friend.* Come on, then - what are we waiting for?

[kitchen_maid]

"Nothing at all," says Amy, with a wide grin, and they walk a little more quickly. (Ladies do not, after all, run.)

All seems well, and then, suddenly, Amy says, "Oh, not her again."

The young woman wandering past, in a blue dress and a white apron, reading as she walks, certainly doesn't look like cause for concern.

[balletrat]

*Meg blinks at the innocuous-seeming girl.*


- she's going to cause a traffic accident if she keeps doing that, *she remarks.*

[kitchen_maid]

"Just wait," says Amy.

And moments later, the young woman looks up from her book and begins to . . . sing.

"Busy square, in a busy city,
Ev'ry day in the streets we know,
Busy square full of busy people,
Coming here to say . . ."

She trails off, but the refrain is quickly picked up by any number of merchants and shoppers.

"Hello!"
"Hello!"
"Hello! Hello! Hello!"

[balletrat]

*As the baker waves cheerfully, the young woman plaintively narrates,*

There goes the baker with his tray like always
The same old bread and rolls to sell -


Old? Week-old bread and rolls, probably! *shouts an old woman from the stall next door. Nobody pays her much mind, especially not the singer, who goes on:*

Ev'ry day it's just the same
From the day on which we came
To this market in the square -


What is this, hell? *mutters Meg, who is looking around frantically for a bucket of water.*