The Very Little Princess: Rose's Story (3 page)

It was a wriggle. Or maybe it was a series of small jerks. Certainly it wasn't anything you would expect from a china doll.

If a doll suddenly moved in my hand, I'd probably drop it in surprise. I'll bet you would, too.

But Rose didn't flinch. She simply tightened her hand over the wriggle.

And then, just as she pushed through the door to the hall, a voice rang out from the hollow of her hand. “What do you think you're doing?” the voice said. “Put me down this instant!”

“Your Royal Highness”

When Rose reached the sidewalk in front of the school, she didn't stop to examine the doll. She just ran, her fingers wrapped tightly around the squirming, shouting little thing.

She kept running until she had a stitch in her side. Even then she didn't slow down much. She just pressed her free hand into the pain and kept going.

“What do you think you're doing?” the tiny doll said again. And she added, “You big …”
That was followed by a string of what were obviously meant to be swear words. They seemed to be the tiny doll's own invention … or else they were in another language. Either way, Rose had never heard any of the words before.

Rose ran until she reached her own house, a tall yellow one set well back from a gravel road. When she got there, she didn't go to the door, though.

She didn't want her mother to see her. Hazel was understanding about many things. She understood that sitting still in school wasn't easy for a girl like Rose. She even understood that Mr. Simmons could be annoying. But running out of school in the middle of the day with her teacher bellowing behind her … Hazel wouldn't understand that. In fact, she would be very upset.

And Rose didn't think there was a grown-up
in the world who would understand a three-and-a-quarter-inch doll that wriggled and swore!

So she scurried along the side of the house toward the best hiding spot she knew. It was the weeping willow tree at the very back of the yard. Even though it was early spring, the willow had already put on its dressing of slender leaves. The pale branches trailed on the ground on every side, making the tree a perfect hiding spot.

Rose ducked beneath the tree and threw herself down on the mossy ground, her heart pounding. She opened her hand slowly.

The china doll lying in her palm was very damp, very rumpled, and very, very angry. She sat up and went right on yelling, if the small, shrill voice coming from such a tiny throat could be called yelling.

“What do you think you're doing?” she
asked for the third time, and she kicked her heels against Rose's palm.

“I'm keeping you safe!” Rose snapped.

“Safe from what?” the doll said. “Big, clumsy oafs who block out the sun?”

Rose opened her mouth. As you've probably noticed, she was usually quick with answers. But her mouth closed again before anything came out. She did feel like a big, clumsy oaf next to this tiny thing. Who wouldn't?

And besides, a million questions swirled in her brain.

The most important one was … how had this happened? When Rose had tucked her find into her pocket in the attic, the doll had been a doll. When she had watched it drop over the banister, it was just a doll. When she had brought it to school that morning and placed it in her desk on her math book,
the doll had been a doll. Nothing more.

But now the china doll moved her arms and legs and turned her head. She stood in Rose's hand and plopped back down again.

Even her face changed. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened and closed … and pouted. And, of course, she talked. Her shrill voice practically cleaned the wax out of Rose's ears.

She wasn't exactly
alive
, if being alive means being flesh and blood. She was still made of china. But she was certainly
awake
.

Rose picked the doll up between her thumb and forefinger. She set her down on a mossy rock at the base of the willow tree and stared at her.

A three-and-one-quarter-inch doll that walked and talked! Nothing so wonderful had ever happened to Rose in her entire life!

So instead of wading into an argument,
which would have been easy to do, she bowed deeply. “Your Royal Highness,” she said, “I am your humble servant.”

Rose didn't really mean it, you understand. Or rather she only half meant it. Mostly she was repeating something Sam sometimes said to her. Usually it was when he'd decided she'd gotten “the big head.”

But apparently the doll didn't know that. She crossed her tiny arms over her tiny chest and looked Rose in the eye. “Well,” she said, “it's about time somebody realized who I am!”

Have you ever gazed up at the underside of a weeping willow tree from the point of view of a three-and-one-quarter-inch doll?

Of course you haven't. But imagine it. The leaves tremble in the breeze, forming a wall of shimmering green. The branches curving above you are the ceiling of a palace.

You sink deep into a cushion of velvet moss. The rock you're sitting on becomes a throne.

And this girl, this enormous girl with a great snarl of dark curls, has just bowed to you. She has said the words that you have always known were yours to hear, “Your Royal Highness” and “I am your humble servant.”

What would you say? What would you do?

Chances are pretty good that you would be more humble than this tiny doll. Most of us would be. But still, you might be tempted to take advantage of the moment … just a bit. And the doll was more than tempted.

“Every princess,” she said in her most haughty voice, “should have flowers in her throne room. Why are there no flowers?”

Now, there are several very good reasons there were no flowers.

First, Rose hadn't known she would be entertaining a princess.

Second, few flowers can grow in the shade under a weeping willow tree.

And third, this was early spring in northern Minnesota. Flowers weren't growing much of anywhere yet.

The princess waited, but the giant girl who
had identified herself as a servant didn't apologize. She didn't run out to search for flowers, either, which is what any proper servant would have done. She simply sat and stared. Then she clapped her hands. And then she began to laugh, a great, rolling belly laugh. She obviously thought something was terribly funny.

“Throne room?” she cried. “Princess?” she howled. “You!”

The doll was speechless. Could this lug of a girl be making fun of her?

Impossible!

She was, as you have probably noticed, a very self-confident doll. But still, the laughter and the questions shocked her. If she wasn't a princess, who was she?

“Of course I'm a princess,” the doll said. Doubting her own words made her speak even more emphatically. “I'm Princess …”

But she got no further. What was her name? Surely she had a name. Every princess did. She must have forgotten it while she slept.

The girl came to the princess's rescue … as a good servant should. “Princess Regina,” Rose said, “how nice of you to come visit.”

Now, just in case you don't know,
Regina
is a Latin word. It means
queen
. Being called Princess Regina is a bit like being called Princess Queen. Sam sometimes used the name to make fun of his over-the-top little sister. So now I know that and you know that. It just so happens that Rose knew it, too. But the doll didn't. In fact, she had no idea she was being teased. Princess Regina sounded quite fine to her. The instant she heard it, she was certain it had always been hers.

She tried the name on her tongue, softly. “Princess Regina,” she said.

Then she looked up at the girl towering over her and frowned. She hardly seemed like a proper servant for a princess. Her dark too-curly hair poked in every direction at once.
And she had a smudge from a red marker on her cheek that she must have gotten at school. Even her shirt was buttoned wrong. She might have dressed with her eyes half closed.

Still, the princess made a decision. She couldn't remember where she had been before she woke in this girl's wet hand. But wherever it was, she didn't want to go back there. So she'd make the best of what she had at the moment. It was, I'm sure you'll agree, a wise choice.

She straightened her back and lifted her tiny chin. “It's not a visit,” she said to the great moon face hovering above her. “You are much more fortunate than that. Princess Regina is here to stay!”

Staying

And stay she did.

She stayed while Rose gathered pinecones and pebbles to decorate the throne room.

She stayed through the scolding. It seemed Rose's teacher had called. Regina wasn't much interested in what he'd had to say, since it had nothing to do with her. Rose's parents were certainly upset, though.

She stayed through dinner, perched on the edge of Rose's plate, pretending not to see or hear. She pretended, in fact, to be the lifeless
china doll the grown-ups expected. She couldn't remember much from before she'd awakened in this enormous girl's hand. Still, she was pretty sure most adults got upset when they found out a doll could walk and talk.