The goose pecked Golly’s arm.
Yow! Golly tried to let go, but she couldn’t. She stopped laughing. She was beginning to be annoyed.
Molly had almost reached the goose.
Golly yelled, “Don’t touch the—”
“What?” Molly grasped Golly’s elbow and didn’t touch the goose.
“I’m stuck. Pull me off.”
Molly pulled.
Honk!
But Golly stayed stuck.
“Help me, Holly!” Molly called, and held out her hand. “Pull!”
Holly took the hand and pulled.
Honk!
But Golly stayed stuck.
The three of them trotted after the goose. In a few minutes, Molly got tired. “I’m going home.” She tried to let go of Golly’s elbow. She yanked and tugged.
Honk!
She was stuck.
Holly tried to let go of Molly’s hand, but she was stuck too.
Eleven
Hmm . . . Robin thought, glancing back. Whoever touches the goose becomes sticky. And the next person and the next become sticky too! He wondered how long a chain he could make. They did look funny, the three of them.
Golly was angry. “Dearie, stop this instant!”
Ethelinda didn’t care a bit for Golly. Now there was a human who could use punishing.
Robin saw a mule and wagon in the distance, coming back from Biddle Castle.
It was the Snettering-on-Snoakes chandler. He wondered where Robin was going with that goose and why Golly, Holly, and Molly were traipsing after him. And who was the old lady?
“Whoa, Jenny,” he called to his mule.
Holly, Molly, and Golly yelled to the chandler to set them loose. When he understood what they wanted, he tied a rope to Jenny’s harness and threw the rope over Holly.
Oh, no! Robin thought. The goose can’t be stronger than a mule.
“Pull, Jenny. Pull.”
Jenny tried, but she couldn’t. She got pulled instead.
The goose is stronger! Robin thought.
The chandler tried to jump down from his cart to see what was wrong, but he couldn’t. He was stuck to his bench.
Robin glanced back and almost laughed. The beginning of a joke came to him. Why does a king always seem glum? But he was still too upset to think of the punch line.
The chandler and his cart and mule followed Robin and the golden goose. Holly and Molly kept hollering that Jenny should try harder. Golly kept screaming at Robin to stop, to listen, to behave himself . . . dearie.
The Royal Drawbridge Guard saw a strange parade, heading for Biddle Castle. He frowned. There was the chandler. But the chandler had left only a little while ago. Who were the others with him?
The chandler looked flustered. Could be trouble. The guard got his pike ready.
They came closer. The guard wondered why the chandler and his mule and wagon and three wenches were following a lad with a golden goose. Why were the wenches shouting? Why did the mule look so confused? And who was the old lady?
Then the guard understood. The lad was really a prince! A contestant! The guard started laughing and put down his pike. This was so funny. It was sure to win. He bowed as Robin approached.
Robin thought, He’s letting me in! The old lady is right! Maybe he’d like to come along too. He called, “Help yourself to a feather.”
The guard lunged at the goose.
Honk!
The guard was stuck.
Robin was going by the Royal Kitchen Door just as the Royal Third Assistant Cook stepped outside.
My, the cook thought, that’s a fine pair of goose feet, perfect for pickling. He reached out and grabbed the goose’s right foot.
Honk!
In the Royal Tournament Arena Lark wept on. So far seventy-five princes had tried to make her laugh. The king and the Royal Nobles were merrier than ever before. But Lark’s eyes hurt from crying so much. Two Royal Laundresses worked day and night to keep her in fresh hankies.
Right now a prince was saying “Fiffifferall” over and over. At first no one had laughed, but after a few minutes a Royal Baroness had begun to giggle, and then the Royal Chief Councillor had joined in, and soon everyone was laughing heartily.
Except Lark, of course.
A commotion at the arena’s entrance drowned out the prince. Heads turned. Lark didn’t look up.
Robin, Holly, Molly, Golly, the Royal Drawbridge Guard, and the Royal Third Assistant Cook jogged into the arena. Behind them, the chandler, Jenny, and the cart clattered along. Ethelinda skipped and leaped and waved her arms in the air, to add to the silliness.
Robin saw Lark. There she was. Weeping! Her sweet face was unutterably sad. She was wiping her eyes and staring at her lap. She hadn’t even seen him.
He broke into a run. Lark! Oh, Lark!
Twelve
King Harrumphrey and the courtiers saw the goose parade and roared with laughter. Even the prince saying “Fiffifferall” laughed. The Earl of Pildenue fell out of his seat, laughing. Dame Cloris woke up and started laughing. King Harrumphrey rocked back and forth on his throne.
Lark wept and never looked up. Where was her love now? Did he miss her?
Robin moaned. Whatever had happened to Lark must have been—must still be—awful. He began to cry in sympathy.
Under the laughter and the shrieks, Lark heard a new sound. She closed her eyes to hear better. Someone else was weeping.
Robin ran across the arena. He shouted, “Oh, Lark! Oh, my love! Oh, don’t cry!”
She opened her eyes. Robin? Here? Yes! She smiled rapturously at him. Just at him—because she didn’t notice the guard, the cook, Ethelinda, Golly, Molly, Holly, the chandler, Jenny, the cart, or the goose.
She’s smiling! Robin thought. He smiled back at her through his tears.
Lark jumped up, knocking over her outdoor throne. Then she saw the spectacle behind Robin. They were so funny! She ran down the arena steps, laughing as she ran.
Ethelinda laughed too. Giving a successful reward was its own reward.
Robin thought of the punch line for the joke about why a king seems glum. He laughed. His laughter shook the goose.
Honk!
Golly shrieked, “Dearie! Get away from that princess.”
Robin said, “Loose, goose.”
Holly, Molly, Golly, the chandler, the mule, the cart, the Royal Drawbridge Guard, and the Royal Third Assistant Cook were released from their hold on the goose and each other.
Royal Nobles poured onto the field. They surrounded Robin and bowed to him and shouted, “Congratulations!” Ethelinda stood at the edge of the crowd. She was sure she’d never have trouble with rewards again, now that she’d found the goose.
“Harrumph.”
The crowd parted for King Harrumphrey.
He was delighted to see Larkie laughing again. And this young prince had done it cleverly. Dressing like a commoner—very smart. He’d make a fine son-in-law. “We are pleased to make your harrumphance, Your Highness.” He put his arm around Robin’s shoulder. “What kingdom do you harrumph from?”
Highness? Kingdom? Who did the king think he was? Robin knelt. “I live in Snettering-on-Snoakes, Sire. I’m Robin, the baker’s son.”
He is a commoner! the king thought. He’s that blasted baker’s son.
“I want to marry him,” Lark said.
King Harrumphrey wanted to throw him into the Royal Dungeon. But he couldn’t, not with Larkie smiling at the boy in that demented way.
Golly opened her mouth to say that she was marrying Robin.
“Son,” the king said, “only a prince could win the harrumph.”
Golly shut her mouth.
Robin thought, So that’s why Lark was weeping. He thought of weeping again himself, but he couldn’t stop smiling at her.
King Harrumphrey turned to his daughter. “You don’t want to harrumphy him, honeyharrumph. We’ll give him a harrumphdred golden coins instead.”
Ethelinda
was furious. She hated a snob. Couldn’t the king tell what a fine lad Robin was?
“No, Father. He doesn’t want a gift.”
“A harrumphdred golden coins and a golden cage for that golden harrumph.”
“No thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Father, I’m going to cry again.”
“Don’t harrumph. We hate it when you harrumph. Let us think.” He couldn’t let her marry a commoner. What would his Royal Forebears have done? Well, King Humphrey IV would have devised a test. What kind of test? Hmm . . .
“We will consent to the harrumphage,” he said, “if the lad can pass three harrumphs. For the first harrumph he must find someone who can drink a whole cellar full of harrumph.” He saw Lark’s expression. “Very fine harrumph. Only the best.”
Golly laughed. Her dearie would never pass the test.
Who could drink so much? Robin wondered. And what’s harrumph? Beet juice? Bat’s milk?
I can do it, Ethelinda thought. I can drink anything.
“The second harrumph is to find someone who can eat a hill of harrumphs as tall as our Royal Glass Hill.”
Now what’s harrumph? Robin thought. Skunk sausages?
“And the third harrumph . . .” The king paused for effect. “. . . is to come to Biddle Castle on a ship that harrumphs on land or water.”
Lark frowned. “What?”
“A harrumph that sails on land or harrumph.” No commoner can pass these tests, King Harrumphrey thought. But if this upstart does, we’ll dream up three more tests, and then three more. As many as it takes.
Thirteen
The third test might be hard, Ethelinda thought.
Robin couldn’t imagine how he’d pass any of them. He was going to lose Lark all over again.
“The tests are impossible,” Lark wailed.
“Sweetie, this harrumph has already made you laugh, and you and we thought that was imharrumphible.”
But that was because he’s my love, she thought. And because he’s funnier than anyone else.
Robin remembered that the old lady had said she might be able to help him some more. He turned her way, and she winked at him—although she still wasn’t sure about the last test.
Robin began to have a suspicion about her. “I’ll try,” he told the king. He bowed. “Farewell.” Farewell, my love.
“Farewell.” Lark smiled bravely.
Robin picked up the goose and started out of the arena. Ethelinda walked at his side. Golly began to go with them, but the fairy waved her invisible wand.
Golly’s feet wouldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried. “Dearie, I want to come with you.”
He kept walking.
“Get back here and help me, dearie.”
He walked faster.
When they were out of sight of the castle, Robin said, “You’re a fairy, aren’t you?”
Smart human! Ethelinda resumed her normal form.
Honk!
Robin staggered back. She was gigantic! And those wings! Pink, fleshy, and vast.
He thought it might be a good idea to bow, so he did. “Will you help me?”
She turned herself into a hungry-and-thirsty-looking beggar. “This is the right shape for the first two tests, don’t you think?”
He nodded. They waited a half hour so it would seem as if he had spent some time searching for someone. Then they started back to the tournament arena.
Meanwhile, King Harrumphrey was annoyed because he’d used up seven hundred kegs of cider flooding the basement of the Royal Museum of Quest Souvenirs. Worse, he had no idea how he was going to un-flood it when Robin’s person failed to drink it dry.
But in case whoever it was succeeded, the king had ordered the Royal Kitchen to cook thousands of meatballs for the second test. Most likely everybody at the castle was going to be eating meatballs till meatballs came out of their eyeballs.
Lark felt a little hope when she saw the beggar, who was as skinny as one of the goose’s legs. His cracked and chapped tongue hung out, for certain the driest tongue in Biddle. King Harrumphrey started to worry.
Holly, Molly, the chandler, the guard, and the cook had left. Golly had stayed, although the spell on her feet had worn off.
At the museum a Royal Servant opened the trap-door to the cellar. Cider lapped against the ceiling. Robin put the goose down and stood next to Lark to watch.
Ethelinda used her fairy powers to discover if anything was in the cellar besides cider. Seventeen rats, drinking and swimming. She made them vanish. She didn’t want their whiskers anywhere near her mouth, and she didn’t want King Harrumphrey to claim that she’d had help drinking a single sip.
The servant handed her a ladle.
A ladle! It would take years with a ladle. Ethelinda waved it aside and lowered her head into the cellar.
She began to drink. The first seventy gallons were delicious, but after that she wished someone had thought to add cinnamon. When a hundred kegs were gone, she could no longer reach low enough to drink. The servant went for a ladder.
While they waited, Ethelinda said, “Thank you, Sire. I would have perished of thirst if not for you. I only hope there’s enough here to satisfy me.”
King Harrumphrey nodded and tried to look gracious. Lark and Robin held hands while he whispered jokes into her ear. Her favorite was Why are elves delicious? She thought the answer was hysterical: Because they’re brownies.
“TILL MEATBALLS CAME OUT OF THEIR EYEBALLS.”
Golly glared at Lark, Robin, the goose, and the beggar. She swore to give that beggar a kick if he ever showed up at her inn.
The king thought up two additional tests, in case he needed them. He’d make Robin find someone who could play twenty musical instruments at once and someone who could go up the Royal Grand Staircase on his head.
The servant returned with a ladder. Ethelinda descended two rungs and drank.
In an hour the cellar was dry. King Harrumphrey inspected it carefully, hoping against hope that he’d find at least a drop of cider, but he didn’t.
It took Ethelinda one and a half hours to finish the meatballs. When she was done, she bowed to the king and burped.
King Harrumphrey said, “Robin, you must harrumph back here in two hours with a harrumph that can sail on land or sea.”
Lark said, “You didn’t say there was a time limit.”
“Two harrumphs and no longer. By Royal Harrumph!”
Fourteen
In a field beyond the castle, Robin patted the goose and waited for Ethelinda to create the ship. Instead, she sat on the ground and put her head in her hands.
He cleared his throat uneasily. “Is there a problem?”
“I’m thinking.” She could make a beautiful ship, one that could weather any storm. But on shore it wouldn’t budge. She could make a wonderful carriage that would go anywhere on land, even without a road. But in water it would sink.
Robin said, “What if the sails turn into wings when the boat reaches the shore?”
“Then the king would say it’s a bird on land and not a boat.”
The minutes ticked by. An hour passed. The sky began to get dark.
An hour and a half passed. The stars came out.
Maybe the lad was on the right track with the wings idea, Ethelinda thought.
Fifteen more minutes passed.
What if she filled the hold with wings? Not birds, just wings. When the ship was on land, the wings would fly up against the ceiling of the hold and lift the ship off the ground.
That was the way to do it. She waved her wand.
Robin gasped. The boat was beautiful, painted yellow with blue trim. The sails were blindingly white. If it could move on land, it would pass the test.
But King Harrumphrey probably still wouldn’t let him marry Lark. The king would think of more and more tests, until the fairy got sick of tests and left him.
I have to think of a way to make this the last one, Robin thought. He stared at the ship. It needed som
ething, something to show what kind of ship it was. It needed a pennant.
A pennant! That was it.
“Is there any empty land far from here where I could be prince?” he asked.
Ethelinda thought for a moment. “You could be Prince of the Briny Isles. This ship will get you there in seven years. You’ll starve to death, though, unless you like anchovies.”
“That doesn’t matter.” If he actually had to go there, his idea would have failed. “Would you make a pennant that says ‘Prince Robin of the Briny Isles’?”
She did, and she dressed him as a prince, in a red satin robe and a doublet with diamond buttons. On his head she placed a silver crown set with rubies.
They mounted a plank onto the ship. It set sail across the field. The boat was a glorious sight, skimming a foot above the ground, its sails bellying out in the breeze.
When the boat reached the castle, it descended into the moat, to prove that it could sail on water too. Then it rose again and stopped a few yards from Lark, the king, and Golly, who were standing near the castle drawbridge. Ethelinda, disguised as a nobleman, threw a ladder over the side. Robin and the nobleman climbed down and bowed. The goose remained on deck, strutting up and down and honking.
Lark curtsied and said, “Your Highness.”
King Harrumphrey scowled. The lad looked better, but a baker’s son in prince’s clothing was still a baker’s son.
Golly gasped. Robin had passed every test. He was going to marry the princess! How dared he? She screamed, “Dearie, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the stupidest lad in Biddle. You led me—”
“Be silent,” Robin said. “I command it.”
Golly was so surprised, she fell silent.
He sounds princely, King Harrumphrey thought, but still . . .
Ethelinda said, “I am the Duke of Halibutia and the envoy of the King of the Briny Isles. He sent me here to find an heir worthy to rule after his death, and I have found him. Prince Robin has more natural royalty than anyone I’ve ever encountered.”
“Sire,” Robin said, “I have passed your tests. Give me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”