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The ball was going well by Harriet’s mother’s standards, which meant that Harriet was about to die of boredom.
She had talked to the bat ambassador at great length. He was a good-natured, inverted fellow very interested in opening up trade with the hamster kingdom. Her mother wouldn’t let her hang upside down to talk to him, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Alas,” said the bat ambassador. “I fear that sonar is a difficult skill to learn.” He sipped his drink neatly, holding the glass right way up, and took a bite of a bug canapé. “And would you truly wish to sit and practice clicking at a very high pitch, when you could be dancing with princes?”
“Absolutely,” said Harriet. “One hundred percent. No question.” The ambassador laughed.
There were, in fact, three princes at the ball whom Harriet knew already. Their names were Archibald, Bastian, and Cauldwell, and Harriet thought of them as Princes A, B, and C. She recognized them at once in spite of the masks. No one else had that same air of bored superiority.
She detested the princes cordially, because she had asked them for help long ago when the hamster kingdom had been trapped under a spell of sleep, and they had laughed at her. (Her mother insisted on the “cordial” part. Harriet would have preferred to detest them actively, possibly with screaming, but since their parents ruled neighboring kingdoms, this was not considered diplomatic.)
Harriet had been pretending that they did not exist all night. This was known in royal circles as “giving them the cut direct.” Unfortunately, they hadn’t noticed her, which is known in royal circles as “being oblivious.”
Her mother showed up to talk to the bat ambassador. Harriet slouched off, looking for someone to talk to. Eventually she saw the only prince she really liked, her best friend Wilbur, who was lurking near the punch bowl. His mask was rather threadbare and could not hide his perpetually worried expression.
“Wilbur!” she said. “It’s me!”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Harriet. “Lots of princesses walk like that.”
Wilbur gave her a look. “Sure,” he said. “And most of them have a sword stuffed under their ball gown too.”
Harriet hastily adjusted her skirts to hide the sword, which was sticking out behind her like a long, slightly lopsided steel tail. “Yeah, well ... I told Mom this wasn’t going to work. What are you doing here? You don’t like balls any more than I do.”
“Ratpunzel wanted to come,” said Wilbur. “She’s never been to a ball before, so Mom asked me to come with her and make sure she was okay. Plus, the rat prince was going to be here, and she’s still madly in love with him.”
Harriet looked over to where Ratpunzel was dancing with a tall rat in a mask. She was immediately identifiable by her enormously long tail, which she carried looped over her shoulder. She looked like she was having a great time.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I was getting bored.”
Wilbur did not reply. Wilbur appeared to have briefly lost the power of speech.
Harriet turned and followed his gaze. And blinked.
There was a hamster in a mask at the entrance to the ballroom. Her fur was gray, her dress was white, and she was absolutely stunning.
She was wearing shining glass slippers.