Ella Enchanted - By Gail Carson Levine Page 0,23

wouldn't allow.

The bell rang calling us to bed. I was late again, but tonight there was no Areida to joke with about our tardiness.

In our room, she sat on my bed, completing a letter for Writing Mistress.

"Where were you? I've been reviewing the imperative."

"I'm tired," I said, not answering the question.

Perhaps I did look tired, or troubled, because she didn't press me. She only patted my arm and said, "We can study imperatives tomorrow."

In bed, I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to savor the last few hours before I had to hurt her.

Sleep on, Areida. Be my friend for one more night.

A long vigil lay ahead. I pulled out my magic book. It opened to a letter from Dame Olga to her daughters.

My sweet darlings,

Your poor mother is desolate without you.

I attended a cotillion last night at the palace. I wore my wine-colored taffeta gown and my ruby pendant. But it was for naught. The company was thin because King Jerrold is away, although Prince Charmont was there. That charming man, Sir Peter, wasn't there either. I was desolate. I understand he is off traveling and becoming richer, I imagine. I wish him well and will be first to pay my respects on his return.

Three pages followed describing Dame Olga's social calendar and her wardrobe.

In closing, she remembered she had daughters and was writing to them.

I hope both of you are eating well to keep up your strength. Olive, pray remember not to eat Madame Edith's flowers. If you were to sicken or die, I should be desolate. Hattie, I hope you have found a trustworthy servant to dress your hair. Madame E. promised it could be arranged.

I expect the two of you are amazingly finished by now. But do not toil too hard, my dears. If you can sing and dance charmingly, eat daintily, and sew a little, you will be fine ladies and I shall be proud of you.

My sweets, the carriage has arrived. I am in my lemon silk calling gown, and I must fly.

Your

adoring

mother,

Dame Olga

* * *

WHY WAS a trustworthy servant necessary to dress Hattie's hair? I compared the luxuriant tresses of Hattie and her mother with Olive's thin curls, and I remembered Hattie's attack on my hair after she smelled the bogweed. I laughed out loud. Hattie and Dame Olga wore wigs!

Thank you, Dame Olga. I hadn't expected to laugh tonight. I turned the page.

On the verso was an illustration of a centaur colt -- Apple, I was sure --

nuzzling a young man -- Char. The colt was a beauty. His hide was deep brown with a tan mane and an irregular tan star on his chest. Skinny and leggy, he was made for speed, although he was too young to bear a rider. Would he ever really be mine?

On the right was a letter from Char to his father.

Dear Father,

I hope this finds you safe and well. My mother and my sister and brothers are in good heath, as am I.

Since I received instructions to join you, I have been filled with gratitude for your confidence in me. The knights you have chosen to follow me are stout fellows and bear the command of a stripling with good humor. My mother worries, but I tell her they will not let harm befall me.

In truth, Father, I am so stirred up by the thought of my first military duty --

even if it is only reviewing border troops -- that I hardly hear my good mother.

Who knows? Perhaps the ogres will raid and there will be a skirmish. I do not fear injury, only that I may not acquit myself well.

Skirmishes with ogres! How could there not be danger?

Char continued to describe the visit of a trade delegation and the same ball that Dame Olga had attended, although he didn't mention what he had worn.

Near the bottom of the page, my name appeared.

I am training a centaur colt for a lass I know. Her mother was the late Lady Eleanor. I admire the daughter, Ella, but she has gone to finishing school, where I fear she will be made less admirable. What do they teach in such places? Sewing and curtsying? It is a great distance to go to learn such paltry tricks.

Would he stop liking me now that I was no longer clumsy? I had never enjoyed being a small elephant and hadn't mourned the loss till now.

Would he even be alive to stop liking me, or would he be an ogre's lunch?

The next