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The castle of the hamster king was a bustle of activity. Servants ran back and forth, carrying tablecloths and platters of food, hanging banners from the battlements, and scouring the countryside for extra tables.
“Harriet!”
Through this controlled chaos, the voice of the hamster queen cut like an ax through warm butter.
“HARRIET!”
“I’m up here, Mom!” yelled Harriet Hamsterbone, princess of the hamster kingdom, slayer of Ogrecats, bane of giants, breaker of curses, and recreational cliff-diver.
“Are you ready?” called her mother, climbing the stairs to Harriet’s bedroom. There were only ten stairs, since Harriet had moved out of the tower bedroom following the incident with the thorn hedges. “The guests will be here soon! You’ll need to get ...”
The hamster queen put her hand over her eyes. “Yes, but meeting the ambassador is only an excuse for the ball, dear.”
“It is?” asked Harriet, still dangling from a curtain rod by her ankles.
“Yes. We’ve invited all the princes, you see.”
“They don’t like me, Mom.” (The feeling was mutual, but Harriet didn’t want to get into that with her mother.)
“They’re just intimidated by you, dear,” said the hamster queen.
“And rightly so!” said Harriet, unhooking her ankles and falling in a heap on the floor. “I’m very intimidating! If you intimidate monsters, sometimes you don’t even need to fight them. They just apologize and go away.”
“Yes, dear,” said the hamster queen. “But we’re hoping that one of these princes will marry you.”
Her mother sighed heavily. “Well then, you’ll need someone to look after the castle while you’re away.”
Harriet was forced to acknowledge the logic of this. She climbed to her feet. “Okay, maybe. But not one of these princes. They call me Crazy Princess Harriet. None of them are going to talk to me.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” said her mother. “They won’t know who you are. It’s a costume ball!”
Harriet clasped her hands together, delighted. “Ooh! Really?”
Visions of costumes whirled through her mind. She could be a vampire—a witch—a ferocious Battle Hamster of the North, who wears a helmet with twisting horns and speaks in verse—
“Yes,” said her mother. “The bat ambassador is very fond of costume balls, and everything came together beautifully. So everyone will be masked, and then—”
“Awwwwwwww,” said Harriet. “Moooooom!”
“Don’t Moooooom me, young lady! This is your chance to meet some nice young princes without terrifying them!”
Harriet groaned, her visions of Genghis Prawn slipping away. “But you always told me to be myself!”
“Yes,” said her mother. “You should be yourself. It’s just that when you are being yourself, it can be very alarming for innocent bystanders, and the stories tend to grow a bit when they’re repeated. So this way, we’ll all be masked and the princes can get to know you without your—ah—reputation preceding you. And if you hit it off with some nice young prince, by the time of the unmasking, the stories won’t matter at all!”
Harriet felt that on some level this was completely wrong. But she also knew that there was no point in arguing when her mother had this look in her eye.
