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Harriet's latest deportment teacher had quit after she'd threatened to stab him with the salad fork (or possibly the fish fork; it was hard to keep track) during an etiquette lesson on the proper utensils to use during a formal state dinner. She wouldn't actually have done it (probably), but still, she felt a little bad about threatening violence against someone who wasn't an evil Ogrecat or wicked witch or rampaging dragon.
On the other hand, Harriet felt like she could be forgiven for losing her temper. After all, was it really necessary to have so many utensils for one meal? Would the world come to an end if one used the same fork to eat salad and meat and fish? Not to mention all the extra work it made for the people washing the dishes.
When she'd mentioned it, the teacher had sniffed haughtily and said, "They're just scullions, aren't they? It's their job to wash the dishes, so what does it matter?"
That was when she had threatened to stab him, and on second thought, she didn't feel that bad about it after all. She was friendly with most of the kitchen staff, who were nice about letting her have a snack when she snuck down to the kitchen after her mother had sent her to bed without supper for doing things like getting her new gown dirty after practicing sword-fighting in it. Or maybe threatening to stab the deportment teacher with a fork.
Anyway, the point was that it wasn't cool to make extra work for very nice, hard-working people and then look down on them for doing the supposedly menial labor of washing a dozen forks when one would have sufficed just as well.
However, Harriet's mother was very upset about having yet another deportment teacher quit. "They don't grow on trees, you know!" she shouted. "You're starting to develop a reputation, which makes them harder to recruit!"
That sounded like a good thing to Harriet, but she knew better than to say so out loud. In fact, it seemed like a good idea to go off on a quest until her mother calmed down.
So after everyone in the castle had gone to bed, Harriet gathered some supplies and her sword, and left a note on the nightstand that said: "Dear Mom and Dad, I'm going on a quest with Mumfrey. I hear there's a princess that needs saving a few kingdoms over. Or maybe a rampaging Ogrecat. Anyway, I'll be back when I'm done questing. Love, Harriet."
She quietly snuck out of the castle and went to the stables, where Mumfrey was sleeping with his head tucked under his wing.
"Qwerrk...?" he said sleepily when Harriet gently patted him on the side to wake him up. Then, with more enthusiasm, he said, "Qwerk?" Which in Quail meant, "Are we going on an adventure?"
"Yes," Harriet replied as she saddled him up. "Mom's mad at me because the deportment teacher quit--"
"Qwerk," Mumfrey snickered, which meant, "So what else is new?"
"And I figured I should give Mom some time to cool off," Harriet finished. "So we're going on a quest!"
"Qwerk!" Mumfrey said, then "Qwerk qwerk?" In Quail that meant, "Great! What kind of quest?"
"Well, I haven't quite figured that out yet," Harriet admitted. "But I'm sure if we go far enough, we'll find a princess to rescue or a monster to defeat."
Mumfrey lifted his wings slightly in the quail equivalent of a shrug and said, "Qwerk," which in Quail meant, "Works for me."
***
A week later, Harriet and Mumfrey had traveled some distance without encountering any adventures.
The Ogrecats had all turned vegetarian, and even the weasel-wolves had given up on eating people and were mostly living on grasshoppers and the occasional newt.
"I suppose it's better that they aren't eating people," Harriet sighed. "But I'm so bored. I haven't been able to smite any monsters in ages!"
"Qwerk," Mumfrey sympathized.
They approached a small village that looked charmingly picturesque--except for the dark and gloomy forest that loomed behind it.
"Maybe things are looking up," Harriet said, immediately perking up. "This looks like just the sort of place where a wicked witch or evil goblin might be hiding."
"Qwerk," Mumfrey said hopefully.
They caused quite a stir as they rode into town, and a mouse cautiously approached them and asked, "Excuse me, but are you Crazy Princess Harriet Hamsterbone?"
"I don't think I'm crazy, but the rest is true," Harriet replied. "How did you recognize me?"
"Uh, well, you're wearing a tiara and carrying a sword, and there aren't any other warrior princesses that I've heard of," the mouse replied.
Harriet was pleased at being called a warrior princess, so she decided to forgive him for calling her crazy. "Is there any trouble around here that needs taking care of?" she asked.
"There's a rumor about an evil witch living in the woods," the mouse replied.
"Yes!" Harriet exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air. Then realizing that might be less than diplomatic, she added, "Er, I mean, that's terrible, but I'd be happy to get rid of the witch for you."
"Like I said, it's just a rumor," the mouse replied. "But you should go talk to Harold Carpenter. His kids went missing after they went into the woods this morning."
"Great!" Harriet said. "Um, I mean it's great that I can help."
Following the directions that the mouse gave her, Harriet soon found Harold Carpenter's house. Harold turned out to be a plump hamster who was, quite literally, a carpenter.
He hastily tried to brush the sawdust off his overalls when Harriet introduced herself. "Sorry, Your Highness," he apologized. "We weren't expecting royalty."
"It's fine, and just call me Harriet," replied Harriet. "I understand that your children are missing? If so, Mumfrey and I can be of assistance to you."
"Well, I'm not sure if they're actually missing," Harold admitted. "But they left in the morning and it's almost dinnertime now, so I am getting a bit worried."
A female hamster joined him and exclaimed, "And there's supposed to be a witch living in the woods!"
"This is my wife, Liza," Harold told Harriet. Then he turned to his wife, putting an arm around her as he tried to reassure her. "There, there, dear. That's only a rumor, and you know how they are. They've run off before, but they've always come back."
"But they've never stayed out so late before," Liza fretted.
Harriet was a bit confused. "So they might have been captured by a witch, or they might have run away?"
"It's a bit complicated," Harold sighed. "Why don't you come inside and I'll explain."
A few minutes later, Harriet was seated in the couple's living room, and sipping a cup of chamomile tea that Liza served her. As she sipped her tea, Harriet noticed that Harold must be good at his job, because all the furniture looked very well made. The chair she was sitting on had been sanded and polished but not painted, highlighting the natural beauty of the wood grain pattern.
She made a mental note to keep Harold's shop in mind the next time that she accidentally broke a table or chair while practicing swordfighting at home.
"This might be my fault," Liza said, and Harriet switched her focus back to the problem at hand. "You see, I'm actually the twins' stepmother. I only recently married Harold, and well...I really wanted us to be a happy family together, but I guess it's hard for them to accept a new mother."
"It's not your fault," Harold said, patting her hand comfortingly. "If anything, it's mine. My first wife died not long after the twins--Hamsel and Gretel--were born. Because of that, I'm afraid that I've spoiled them a bit, trying to make up for the lack of a mother. And then about seven years later, Liza moved into town."
"The cottage I moved into was rather run down," Liza said, taking up the story. "So I went to Harold to hire him to repair it and well..."
The two of them smiled at each other with a lovey-dovey look in their eyes, and Harold finished, "And the rest is history."
"Part of what I loved about Harold was how much he cared about his children," Liza said, her expression turning worried once again. "But I guess it's natural that they might resent having a stranger suddenly move into their home and suddenly have to share their father's affection with her."
"You've tried hard to be a good mother to them," Harold defended her.
"Maybe I came on too strong too quickly," Liza sighed regretfully. "Hamsel and Gretel love their sweets, and I certainly don't want to deprive them of all their treats, but they'd eat nothing but sugar if you let them. So I started telling them that they couldn't have dessert until they finished their vegetables at dinner."
"I can imagine that didn't go over very well," Harriet said. She could sympathize a little; she was not overly fond of broccoli, for example, but she understood that one had to eat a certain amount of vegetables in order to stay healthy, which was important for a warrior princess.
"No, it didn't," Harold confirmed, grimacing at the memory. "They called her names and threw tantrums. They even threw the food on the floor, and I finally put my foot down." Then he sighed and said, "At least, I tried to. I told them no dessert at all until they apologized to their mother and ate all their vegetables, and I assigned them chores, helping around the house and in my workshop."
"But they say I'm not their real mother, so they don't have to listen to me," Liza said tearfully.
"And they don't finish their dinner, and they run off to play in the woods instead of doing their chores," Harold said, throwing up his hands helplessly. "I'm useless as a father!"
"Don't say that, dear," Liza protested, wrapping her arms around him. "You're a wonderful father and you love your children. Someday they'll realize that, even if they don't right now."
"But will someday ever come?" Harold asked despairingly. "I don't know what to do, short of locking them up in their rooms."
"Excuse me," Harriet interrupted, frowning because something was not adding up in her mind. "People say the woods are dangerous, but the children have been playing in them...for how long?"
"A couple of weeks now," Harold replied. "And they've always come home in time for dinner. A little sullen, maybe, but without any harm done to them. That's why I figured those stories about the witch were just rumors."
"I cautioned them about going into the woods, but they just laughed and said they weren't afraid of any witch," Liza added.
"It's funny, though, now that I think about it," Harold said, scratching his head. "They haven't had any sweets since they threw that tantrum, and they don't eat all their dinner, but I swear they've gotten chubbier. Are you sneaking them food because you feel sorry for them, Liza?"
"I always leave out a basket of bread for them when they go out to the woods," Liza admitted. "Sometimes they spend all day out there, and I don't want them to go hungry. But not enough to make them chubby, though it does seem like they've gained weight recently now that you mention it. How odd."
It sounded like there probably wasn't a witch in the woods after all, Harriet thought with disappointment. But still, she had promised to help the couple find their lost children, and a warrior princess had to keep her word. Though frankly, they sounded like a couple of spoiled brats.
To be fair, she grudgingly conceded, both her parents were alive and well and happily married. She wasn't sure how she would feel if she suddenly acquired a new stepparent. Maybe not that happy about it at first, but she hoped that she wouldn't be mean if that person was nice and trying to do their best, as Liza seemed to be.
"All right, I'll go look for them," Harriet said, rising to her feet. "And bring them back home safely, witch or no witch."
"Thank you so much, Princess!" Liza exclaimed, flinging her arms around a startled Harriet, who didn't bother to say, "Just call me Harriet" this time.
"We're very grateful for your help," Harold said, more sedately but no less sincerely.
"They seem like nice people," Harriet told Mumfrey as they rode into the woods.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey agreed. Then he added a bit doubtfully, "Qwerk...qwerk qwerk?" In Quail, that meant, "You promised to bring them back safely but what if the witch already ate them or something?"
"Bah," Harriet scoffed. "If there really was a witch, she would already have captured those kids instead of waiting for two weeks."
"Qwerk qwerk?" Mumfrey suggested, which in Quail meant, "What if she was fattening them up?"
"That's nonsense," Harriet replied, but felt a tinge of unease. She wanted to urge Mumfrey on faster, but he had to pick his way carefully through the woods, as the path was neglected and overgrown. Also, she wasn't exactly sure where to look--if the children had left the path or been taken from it, there was no point in running off wildly in what would likely be the wrong direction.
"Keep your eyes open, Mumfrey," Harriet said, as she did likewise, looking around for signs that someone had passed by, like footprints or broken branches.
"Qwerk?" Mumfrey said, cocking his head to one side as he gazed down at a large bread crumb lying on the ground in front of his feet.
"Hey, didn't Liza say that she gives them bread when they go out into the woods?" Harriet said excitedly. She leaned over to pat her trusty steed on his neck. "Great job, Mumfrey! You found a clue."
"Qwerk," Mumfrey replied proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. Then he pecked up the crumb and ate it.
They found another breadcrumb a little farther ahead, and then another. They followed the trail, with Mumfrey eating them as they went along, enjoying his unexpected snack.
The trail led off the main path onto a narrow dirt trail that wove between a dense group of trees with overhanging branches that reached down, looking ominously claw-like, and the leaves mostly blocked out the late afternoon sunlight, rendering the atmosphere dark and gloomy.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey said nervously, which in Quail meant, "This sure looks like a place where a wicked witch would live."
"Careful, Mumfrey," Harriet warned, but the battle quail was already on his guard, his body tense and his eyes alert, looking for danger.
Harriet's nose twitched as it picked up a scent--not unpleasant, as one might expect of a witch brewing eye of newt and toe of frog and whatever other noxious ingredients they used in their potions. Instead, it was sweet and slightly spicy.
"Cookies?" she muttered to herself, and Mumfrey said, "Qwerk," in an affirmative tone as he trotted forward a little more eagerly, although he still looked about cautiously.
They followed the crumbs and the scent through the creepy trees until they a clearing where a small cottage stood. At first it appeared to be made of wood with white trim, but as they got closer the spicy-sweet smell grew stronger and Harriet could see that it was actually made of huge slabs of gingerbread held together with thick white icing.
It was quite charming, or at least it would have been if the cottage had not been in a state of disrepair. The rain gutters had been torn off the roof and reduced to crumbs, and the shutters had big bites taken out of them. The front door, which was wide open, had also obviously been gnawed on.
"A house made of food is not very practical," Harriet observed, and Mumfrey qwerked in agreement.
Harriet dismounted and drew her sword, then walked through the open door, prepared to do battle with an evil witch. Instead, she found two plump hamster children lying on the kitchen floor, groaning and holding their very round bellies.
"Oooh, I can't eat another bite," the boy--presumably Hamsel--groaned.
"I just...want to finish...this chair leg," Gretel gasped, chewing determinedly on a large stick of gingerbread that was all that remained of the chair except for a pile of crumbs around the table, which also looked nibbled around the edges.
"Qwerrrk?" Mumfrey asked doubtfully, poking his head through the doorway. In Quail, that meant, "So was the witch fattening them up after all?"
"They don't exactly look like prisoners," Harriet replied, gazing down suspiciously at the children. "And where's the witch?"
As if in response, there was a pounding noise behind the pantry door, and a voice called out, "Please help me! Those wretched children locked me in here."
Harriet stepped over said children, who were too stuffed with gingerbread to object. She opened the door, still holding her sword in one hand just in case.
A sweet-faced guinea pig with cinnamon-colored fur stumbled out. The only things indicating that she might be a witch were her pointed black hat and her black dress, which was covered with a flour-streaked apron. Harriet knew from experience that appearances could be deceiving, but she didn't look very dangerous. And if she was a powerful witch, how could two children have gotten the best of her?
"Oh, thank you!" the guinea pig said tearfully. "I thought I was going to be locked in there forever." Then she saw the two near-comatose hamsters on the floor and shrieked, "Those awful brats are destroying my house!"
"Lady, you make a house out of gingerbread, of course someone's gonna eat it," Hamsel said, clutching his swollen belly.
"Whoa, time out!" Harriet exclaimed. "Let me make sure I've got things straight. You two are Hamsel and Gretel, the children of Harold the Carpenter, right?" They nodded, and Harriet continued, "And you're the witch who lives in the woods?"
The guinea pig nodded and sniffled, "Yes, my name is Drusilla."
"Qwerk?" Mumfrey asked.
"He wants to know if you eat people," Harriet translated.
"Of course not!" Drusilla said indignantly.
"So you're not a wicked witch?" Harriet asked.
Drusilla started sniffling again. "No, that's why I ran away to these woods. You see, I come from a clan of famous wicked witches. They can cast curses and summon monsters and turn people into toads, but all that my magic is good for is making sweets. The other witches made fun of me, so I left and found a place where I could live alone far way from anyone else. Or so I thought." She glared at Hamsel and Gretel. "But then these two found my cottage and started eating it! At first they would just take a few bites and run off, but today they just started demolishing my house! And when I tried to stop them, they shoved me into the pantry and locked me in there!"
"Sounds to me like she's the victim," Harriet said, giving Hamsel and Gretel a stern look. "You two have anything to say for yourselves?"
"It's all our evil stepmother's fault," Hamsel replied sullenly. "She married Dad and all of a sudden we have all these rules."
"She makes us eat vegetables!" Gretel chimed in. "And doesn't let us have dessert!"
"The way I heard it, she said you could have dessert after you eat your vegetables," Harriet said in a you're not fooling me that easily tone of voice.
"We hate vegetables!" Hamsel declared with such vehemance that he managed to push himself up into a sitting position. "Stupid stepmother is trying to starve us!"
"And Dad let her!" Gretel said. "And he tried to make us do chores, so we ran off into the woods. And then we found this gingerbread house."
"And you didn't think that it might be wrong to start eating someone's house?" Harriet asked incredulously.
"We were hungry," Hamsel whined. "And if the stupid witch didn't want us to eat it, she shouldn't have made it out of gingerbread."
He was being a total brat, but Harriet privately thought that he sort of had a point. "They're entirely in the wrong," she said to Drusilla. "But I do have to ask...why did you build your house out of gingerbread?"
"I told you, conjuring up sweets is all I know how to do," the witch replied tearfully. "It's not like I could build a house on my own otherwise."
"Look, you two," Harriet told Hamsel and Gretel in a no-nonsense voice. "I'm not very fond of vegetables either, but you have to eat some in order to grow strong and healthy like me."
"Are you strong?" Gretel asked skeptically.
"Strong enough to beat up all the Ogrecats and make them turn vegetarian," Harriet said proudly. "Well, to be fair, I didn't have to beat up the Dreaded Ogrecat of Olingsturm--he turned vegetarian on his own. He's a pretty nice guy once you get to know him."
"Wait a minute," Drusilla gasped, her eyes widening. "You're Crazy Princess Harriet Hamsterbone!"
"Well, I don't know about the crazy part, but yes, I'm Harriet Hamsterbone," Harriet replied.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey muttered under his breath.
"Hush," Harriet told him. "Just because I fight dragons and Ogrecats doesn't make me crazy."
"Er, no, of course not," Drusilla said hastily, having belatedly realized that maybe it wasn't wise to offend a crazy warrior princess, especially when one's only mean of defense was magicking up some gingerbread. "Your reputation is quite impressive! Even my mother and sisters, the Wicked Witches of the Black Swamp, speak your name in fearful and hushed whispers. They say that you tamed the Ogrecats and vanquished the evil fairy Ratshade by cutting off her tail."
"Well, yeah, that part's true," Harriet admitted.
"Whoah," Hamsel and Gretel chorused, staring at Harriet with new respect.
"That's kind of cool," Hamsel said.
"Gross, but cool," Gretel agreed. Then she asked nervously, "You aren't going to beat us up, are you? Or cut off our tails?"
"Qwerk," Mumfrey said, which meant, "Not that there's much to cut off," since like all hamsters, they had stubby little tails.
She wouldn't, of course, but Harriet pretended to think it over. "Well..." she said reluctantly as the two children gazed at her anxiously. "You deserve to be punished, but maybe I could go easy on you this time if you apologize to Drusilla and help to repair her cottage. Is that all right with you?"
Drusilla nodded. "That sounds fair enough. To be honest, I never really liked the idea of cursing people or turning them into toads."
"I'm sorry we ate your house, Miss Drusilla," Hamsel said.
"Me too," Gretel said. "Although it really was delicious. You make really good gingerbread."
"Thank you...I think," Drusilla replied.
"And you should also apologize to your stepmother and eat your vegetables," Harriet added. "I know that it's not easy to suddenly get a new parent, but I think she really cares about you and is trying to do her best. She did make sure you had bread to eat even when you were mean to her and shirked your chores."
Hamsel and Gretel both hung their heads, looking a little shamefaced. "I guess she's not really that bad," Hamsel mumbled. "It's just that..."
"Before she came along, Dad spent all his time with us," Gretel finished.
"We were scared that Dad would like her better than us," Hamsel added. "We thought that if we were mean to her, maybe she would go away."
Before Harriet could say anything, she heard a familiar voice calling, "Hamsel, Gretel! Are you in there?"
Harold and Liza came charging through the door, the former wielding an axe and the latter a cast iron frying pan. "Are you all right?" Liza shouted. "We'll save you from the evil witch!"
"How many times do I have to say that I'm not evil?" an exasperated Drusilla exclaimed. "I'm the victim here!"
Harriet hastily stepped between the couple and Drusilla. "Stop, the twins haven't been hurt, and Drusilla isn't evil! And what are you doing here, anyway? Didn't you send me to look for Hamsel and Gretel?"
Harold and Liza slowly lowered their weapons. "We got worried when you didn't come back," Liza said.
"And I started feeling ashamed that I sent a young girl to look for my missing children because I was scared of a witch who might or might not exist," Harold said.
"I'm not a girl," Harriet said firmly. "Well, okay, I am a girl, but I'm not some helpless maiden. I am a seasoned warrior!"
"We meant no offense," Liza assured her. "But we got worried that something might have happened to you too, and...Hamsel and Gretel are our precious children. It wasn't right to rely on a stranger to rescue them."
Harriet quickly explained what had happened, and Harold scolded his children for eating someone else's house without permission. Meanwhile, Liza burst into tears and sobbed, "Oh, thank goodness you're all right! I was terrified that the witch had eaten you! Um...no offense, Drusilla. You seem like a very nice witch, and I'm sorry that we jumped to conclusions."
"None taken, now that everything is cleared up," Drusilla replied. "Most of us do have a pretty bad reputation, my own family included."
Hamsel and Gretel were staring at Liza in shock. "You...were worried about us?" Hamsel asked in a small, trembling voice.
"Even though we've been mean to you?" Gretel asked, equally subdued.
"Of course," Liza gently assured them, kneeling down so that they were on eye level. "I know we didn't start off on the right foot, and it will take some time for us to get to know each other before you really feel like we're family. But I care about the two of you very much and I want to be a good mother to you."
"And you aren't trying to take Daddy away from us?" Gretel asked.
"Oh my dears, of course not!" Liza replied. "The main reason that I fell in love with Harold was because of what a good father he was and how much he loved the two of you. I would never do anything to change that even if I could."
The twins looked at each other, then began crying.
"We're sorry, Stepmother! We won't be mean anymore."
"And I'm sorry we threw away the bread you gave us instead of eating it."
"And we promise we'll eat our vegetables even though they taste yucky!"
"I'm so glad to hear that," Liza said pulling the children into a loving embrace.
"Well, well, it looks like all's well that ends well," Harold said, wiping a tear from his eye. "And it's all thanks to you, Miss Drusilla, Princess Harriet."
"Qwerk!"
"And you too, er..."
"Mumfrey," Harriet supplied.
"Thank you as well, Sir Mumfrey," Harold said, and Mumfrey preened proudly.
Then he turned to Drusilla and said, "We did cause you a lot of trouble, and I'd like to make it up you. I'm a carpenter by trade, and if you like, I could build you a sturdy wooden cottage that would be less prone to being eaten. No charge, of course."
Drusilla was speechless for a moment, then exclaimed, "That would be wonderful! That's so generous of you."
"It's the least I can do, considering the damage my children did," Harold replied. "But more than that, your gingerbread house helped bring my family together, and I can never thank you enough for that."
"I have an idea, too," Liza said. "Why don't you open up a bakery in the village, Drusilla? You clearly make wonderful sweets, and once the villagers understand that you're a good witch, I'm sure you'll have lots of customers."
Hamsel and Gretel looked up hopefully at her, and Liza winked at them and said, "And we'll be your first customers! I'm sure the children would love to have some gingerbread for dessert...after they finish their vegetables, of course."
Everything seemed to be resolved, but Harriet decided to stick around just to make sure nothing else went wrong, like the villagers refusing to accept Drusilla. However, after she dismantled her cottage and distributed the gingerbread for free to the villagers, they were completely won over.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey said sagely, which in Quail meant, "Free food will do that."
Harold built her a sturdy new cottage as promised, and the twins helped as best they could, doing chores like sweeping up sawdust and handing their father nails and tools when he needed them. In the meantime, Harriet and Drusilla took rooms at the local inn, and Drusilla made arrangements to rent a shop and get her bakery ready.
As for Harriet, there were no monsters or evil witches to fight, but she enjoyed regaling the village children with tales of her adventures. And much to Mumfrey's pleasure, he was petted and made much of by the children, who had never seen a battle quail before.
All in all, it was an enjoyable stay, and by the time Harriet started to grow restless, the new cottage was finished and ready for Drusilla to move in.
By then Drusilla had become good friends with Harold and Liza, and had even grown fond of Hamsel and Gretel, who were now much better behaved.
At the housewarming party that the family threw for Drusilla, Harriet noticed that the twins obediently ate their vegetables although they grimaced a bit while doing so, and were rewarded with a dessert made by Drusilla. More importantly, they were now affectionate with Liza and were even calling her Mama instead of Stepmother.
As Harriet was saying her goodbyes after the party, Gretel tugged at Liza's skirts, whispering, "Can we give Harriet her present now, Mama?"
"Now would be the perfect time," Liza whispered back, and the twins hurried out of the room and returned with a small, oddly shaped bundle wrapped in colorful paper.
"For me?" Harriet asked as they presented it to her.
"Dad made it," Hamsel said.
"It's nothing much, just a little something to say thank you for all your help," Harold said modestly.
"Can I open it now?" Harriet asked.
"Yes!" the twins chorused, obviously eager to see her reaction.
Harriet tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a small wooden carving of a quail--not just any quail, but Mumfrey, capturing his likeness perfectly from the little feather crest that curved into a question mark-like shape to the proud expression on his face.
"Why Harold, it's way more than 'nothing much'--it's wonderful!" Harriet exclaimed.
"You like it, then?" Gretel asked.
"I love it," Harriet replied firmly. "It's one of the best presents I've ever gotten!"
"Aw, shucks," Harold said, blushing but looking quite proud of himself.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey declared after he was shown the statuette. In Quail that meant, "Now that's a handsome fellow if I do say so myself."
"We'll miss you, Harriet," Gretel said.
"Come see us again sometime," Hamsel added, and the two children hugged her.
"I will," Harriet promised, hugging them back. A few tears were shed, although Harriet declared that she was not crying, she just had a speck of dirt in her eyes.
"They turned out to be pretty nice kids after all," Harriet said once she and Mumfrey were back on the road.
"Qwerk," Mumfrey agreed.
Harriet thought about Hamsel and Gretel and how the real problem hadn't been their greed for sweets, but their fear that Liza would replace them in their father's affections.
"I guess it's not easy being a parent," Harriet mused out loud. With a twinge of guilt, she thought about her arguments with her own mother. True, all the deportment lessons were deadly dull and her mother didn't seem to understand that Harriet was never going to fit into the mold of what she deemed a "proper" princess.
But Harriet also knew without a doubt that her mother loved her and was trying to do what she thought was best for Harriet--even if she drove Harriet crazy sometimes. And to be fair, she probably drove her mom crazy as well.
"It's time we headed home," Harriet told Mumfrey, although they made a stop along the way at the former Princess August's flower shop to get a bouquet of pink tulips, Harriet's mother's favorite flower. Once upon a time before Harriet had been born, the Queen had liked roses, but after having the castle wrapped in thorny briars due to the curse that took hold on Harriet's twelfth birthday, she now had an aversion to anything with thorns.
Harriet's mother was waiting for her when she arrived home at the castle. One of the guards must have spotted Harriet and Mumfrey coming and alerted the Queen. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she had a very stern look in her eyes.
"Harriet Hamsterbone, where have you been?" she demanded.
"Saving a nice witch from two bratty kids who were eating her house, and reconciling those kids with their father and stepmother," Harriet replied.
The Queen blinked, stunned into silence and Harriet took the opportunity to hold out the tulips and say, "Peace offering?"
Harriet's mother took them and sighed, but she smiled a little. "They're very lovely, dear."
"Also, I'm sorry for threatening to stab the deportment teacher with a fork," Harriet added. "Even though he had a very rude and dismissive attitude towards the servants."
"I thought he was rather obnoxious, too," the Queen admitted. "But it's very hard to find someone willing to teach you, given the reputation you've developed."
"Is it really necessary to learn the difference between a dozen different forks?" Harriet asked plaintively.
Her mother actually chuckled at that. "I know it's boring and tedious," she replied. "I hated my deportment lessons when I was a child, too, you know."
"Really?" Harriet exclaimed. Of course she knew her mother had once been a child, but it was difficult to picture.
"However, noble families consider those tedious details to be important, and someday you may be at a diplomatic banquet where offending the other party could result in tensions between our kingdoms, possibly even war. Therefore, it is necessary for you to learn these things."
"Yes, Mother," Harriet said in a resigned voice.
"Since you've scared off all the deportment teachers, why don't I give you lessons?" Harriet's mother suggested with a smile. "We can practice at tonight's dinner--as long as you promise not to stab me with a fork." When Harriet hesitated, she coaxed, "I'll have the cook prepare all your favorite dishes."
"Okay, Mom," Harriet agreed. If she couldn't get out of the lesson, she supposed she'd rather have her mother teach her than anyone else. "Also..."
"Yes, dear?"
Harriet looked down at her feet and mumbled, "I know I'm not really a proper princess and I cause you trouble sometimes...but I really do love you."
"Oh my dear!" the Queen exclaimed in surprise. "It's true that you are a...um...very unique sort of princess, but I love you just the way you are, Harriet."
"Really?" Harriet asked, looking up at her mother. "Even if I drive you crazy sometimes?"
"Really," the Queen replied, smiling at her tenderly. "And yes, you do drive me crazy sometimes, and while I wish you wouldn't put yourself in danger so often, I am very proud of the way that you help other people."
She wrapped her arms around Harriet, and Harriet hugged her back, thinking that maybe learning to use a bunch of different forks wouldn't be so bad after all.