smallestopener | The Princess Birthday Ball

The huge, white tent sprawls on the lawn beside the lake. It has been transfigured there for a very special occasion. A stone walkway leads from the bar to the tent - the pavements are wide enough that ladies' dresses won't trail on the ground as they make their way to the entrance. Over the draped curtains of the entrance way is a large banner which reads "Happy 7th Birthday, Ingress".

Once inside, the honored guests will be in the midst of an enchanted ballroom. There are balloons drifting in bunches from the circular tables lining the sides of the large dance floor. Floating candlabras glow with gentle light from above. There are trees in large ornamental pots interspersed throughout sparkling with fairy lights from real fairies.

One long banquet table is positioned on along the side of the ballroom - there are treats of all description. Little finger sandwiches, chopped up fruit, cookies, cheese and crackers, and other child-friendly h'ors douerves are presented to make sure the dancers are sustained throughout the the party. There are large bowls of ice cream (kept cold with magic)and sundae fixings. Punch bowls of sherbet-flavored drinks await ladling into crystal goblets. But most impressive is the large birthday cake with blue, purple, and pink icing roses festooning it.

Ingress is busy greeting her guests in her gown - a birthday gift from Amy and Susan - but soon she'll be dancing to the music provided by the overlarge Gramophone in the corner, which is playing a wide array of dancing music from waltz standards to court music to pop hits of the 20th century.

Tom, who's pretty tired from the magical effort required to pull this off, is in the background making sure his little girl is having a perfect party, and Princess Amy is helping Ingress in her hostess duties.

Come in and enjoy the party!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"Most of the ones with words," she says wryly. "Unless they were about the rare beauty of one of my sisters."

"Though there were dancing tunes enough also," she says. She smiles, "When I was five I asked the court minstrel to write a song about how fast I could climb a tree. For some reason, he was too busy that week."

From:

kitchen_maid

"Our court poet wrote a great many poems about my sisters. He once spent two weeks trying to come up with a way to accurately describe my hair, other than 'mouse.' And then he gave up."

She grins. "I would have liked a poem about my treeclimbing, but I can only imagine the reaction I would have gotten."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"He can't have been a very good poet then," says Cimorene, suitably unimpressed.

"But yes. I'm afraid the long-lost poetry of our tree-climbing days will remain unwritten. It's a shame really. It probably would have been wonderful."

From:

kitchen_maid

"It would have been epic," laughs Amy. "Perhaps we shall just have to write it ourselves."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Cimorene giggles, "You know, I think we may just have to. Let me see...

Princess Amy, at five years old
never did as she was told
Instead of going to balls and teas
she spent her free time climbing trees

What do you think?"

From:

kitchen_maid

Amy laughs. "Oh it's perfect. Now let me try. . ."

She thinks for a moment, and then

"Cimorene, a princess rare,
Ran off to a dragon's lair.
She wasn't blonde, she wasn't vapid,
And she could climb a tree so rapid . . . ly."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Cimorene laughs loudly and applauds, "Wonderful! I think we would make a fine pair of court minstrels, Amy."

Yes. They would.

From:

kitchen_maid

"We would. And if the kitchen maiding and dragon librarianing ever doesn't work out, we can always go off and become minstrels."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"I'll ask my next few rescuers if they've heard of any job openings lately," she says laughing, "I'll have them keep an ear out for me."

From:

kitchen_maid

Amy giggles.

"Marvelous. You could write a song to ask them, and sing it to them, as a demonstration."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"Do you think that would send them away any faster? Or would it confuse them and make them stay longer?"

This is a very serious question. Clearly.

From:

kitchen_maid

"I think it would depend on the rescuer," says Amy, after a moment's hesitation. "It is frightfully easy to confuse most princes, though, isn't it?"

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"Usually saying 'I'm Cimorene. Can I help you with something?' is enough to do it," she says, shaking her head. "It earns me more than my fair share of completely dumbfounded blank stares."

From:

kitchen_maid

"Oh, I'm sure," says Amy. "Silly things, princes."

But kings are a whole other matter. Or so Amy finds.

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Oddly enough, Cimorene has found that too.

"Very silly," she agrees, "I'm sure they feel I ought to be too blinded by their radiance to say anything at all."

From:

kitchen_maid

"Well, you know," says Amy, conspiritorily, "if you polish armor enough, or have your squire do it, you can be a bit dazzling. But it's haldly enough to leave a girl speechless."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"If his armor was that shiny, I'd probably ask him what sort of polishing solution he used," she says matter-of-factly. "Only, I'm sure he'd have absolutely no idea."

From:

kitchen_maid

"You could ask for the name of his squire. He'd probably know," says Amy practically.

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

She thinks about it. "I could, and he would, but at that point the conversation would have gone on far too long anyway. I haven't got time to track down squires. I have more important things to do these days."

Pretty much anything counts as more important under those circumstances.

From:

kitchen_maid

Amy grins.

"Well, yes. Though the squires tend to be slightly more bearable than the knights. Of course, most of them want to be knights, but they are slightly better than the ones who are already knights. I think it's the armor. Once you put it on, you just become sort of hopeless."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

"Squires are still disgruntled by all the polishing," Cimorene agrees, "But they don't often come along on the rescues. There's a ledge they have to cross, which means the knight has to come alone on foot."

She grins, "Which also means they can't rescue me by throwing me over a saddle and riding off, which is a very big plus."

From:

kitchen_maid

"Very very," agrees Amy.

Though she can't quite imagine a knight brave enough to try to carry Cimorene off on the back of his horse.

"I'm surprised they don't have their squires come along in front and herald their arrivals, though. Or is that more a job for a page?"

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Such knights are not so much brave as very very dumb. Or else, they don't particularly care for their kneecaps.

Cimorene thinks about it, "Well, if the prince is important enough he has his own personal herald to do the job. The less important ones just have their squires do it. But I don't think they normally bring heralds to dragon-slayings. After all, the herald would just get eaten, and good heralds are so hard to find these days."

From:

kitchen_maid

"I always felt a little sorry for my parents' heralds," says Amy. "Having to remember all those names, every time one of us went into a room, you know."

From:

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Cimorene grimaces, "Oh, that's right! We only had one name each, and it was still difficult. Poor fellows."

She laughs, then looks around the party and catches sight of Mendanbar staring intently at the ice cream.

"Oh look! There's Mendanbar. I think I'll go say hello," she beams at Amy, "It's a lovely party, Amy."