SORROW

 

The year is 2000.

Once upon a time, when hover cars and Sony Playstation video games were invented, and rap and techno were the music and dance theme of the era, there lived a king, who had 3 daughters; the two elder sisters, Fatsy and Skinny, were jaw droppingly ugly, too snobby, and mean.  The youngest, Sorrow, was drop dead gorgeous, hip, and good-natured. 

Long without a wife, the king’s only joy had been the joy of being a proud father.

But the girls were growing up; soon there would be boyfriends, soon the castle would be empty.  The king thought he must find himself a wife to comfort him.  The law of the land required him to marry the girl whose finger fits the royal ring.

The wedding ring passed on from queen to queen, finger to finger, since any could remember.  Only when the ring fitted, can the king marry.

A Town Cryer announced throughout the land, that all good women who wished to be queen, must come forward and try the ring.  His lucky bride would want for nothing.

The older sisters sulked at the thought of having a stepmother, and they whined about it to each other.

“He can’t do that!” cried out Fatsy, squashing her face into Skinny’s shoulder for support.

“He’s too old to be getting married, he ought to be dying shortly,” said Skinny, trying to calm her sister’s nerves.

Suddenly, a voice came out from behind them.  “I don’t think he’s too old,” said Sorrow, interrupting their whinge.

“What?  What’s she whispering on about?” asked Skinny, looking at Fatsy, ignoring Sorrow and carrying on their conversation.

“Oh no!  I know what will happen, some harpy will step forward, the ring will fit, they’ll get married, then he’ll die, and she’ll get everything, that’s what will happen,” Fatsy said frantically.

“Ooh,” Skinny moaned, gasping for breath.

The more the sisters sulked at the prospect of a stepmother, the viler they were to Sorrow, their sister.  When their father set off to find his bride, they teased, taunted and tormented her; they starved her, telling Sorrow that she was too fat, and stole her food from her plate.

However, they reckoned without her friends, the creatures who lived in her Cargo pants pockets, under her bed, and perched on her platform boots.  When she went to her room, she’d find berries, nuts and fruits, and all kinds of delicious things.

At last the king returned home, and the two bad sisters were the first to welcome him home.

“We’ve missed you so much dad, we’ve cried every night, are our eyes blood shot, they are I know,” whimpered Fatsy.

Skinny snuggled into her father’s arms and said, “No bride then.”

“No, the ring was a cruel shape, none could wear it,” replied their father.

“Oh it’s fate,” sighed Fatsy.

“Oh it’s not intended,” added Skinny.

Unsure of why he had not found a bride, the king answered his daughters in a puzzled tone of voice, “perhaps, I don’t really know.”

Fatsy butted in immediately and said, “You don’t need a wife, when you’ve got us.”

Skinny backed her sister’s words, and said, “Don’t we love you enough Daddy.”

“I know, I know.  Where’s your sister?” said their father, changing the subject.

The sisters looked at each other for an answer to give their father, and Skinny blurted out “flirting with the guards, stuffing herself, or probably gone off to one of those raves with her low life friends.”

A few days later, the castle became a zoo, with women coming from across the land to try the royal ring.  One by one, the ring went from finger to finger, but the ring wouldn’t fit anyone.  The two sisters watching them try the ring on for size, were getting pretty upset with all the women trampling through their castle, trying to claim their fortune.

“It’s bound to fit someone eventually; how disgusting,” moaned Fatsy.

Skinny thought up one of her hair brain ideas, and said, “I mean, we should be queens actually; together.”

“I know,” Fatsy answered excitedly.

“I mean, what if the ring were to fit you or me, then what?” said Skinny, looking at Fatsy to add to her brainstorm.

The bells tolled for the days ending of trying the ring.

“Too late, too late,” screamed Skinny.

Fatsy wanting the guard to get rid of the women immediately, she yelled at him, “Can’t you control these women, get them out of here.”

The women were literally thrown from the castle on Fatsy’s orders.  Happy with her orders been carried out, she turned to Skinny and said, “Getting back to our conversation, I know what you mean Skinny, but he won’t want to marry us, but then he couldn’t marry anybody, which is even better.”

They both schemed and looked at the ring, placed on a velvet red cushion in the middle of the room.  Fatsy hastened her sister towards the ring, and said in an anxious voice “Come on.”

They made their way towards the ring.  Skinny was the first to try the ring on, but it was too big.  “Oh look,” said Skinny showing Fatsy how the ring was slipping off her finger.

“It’s hopeless, well you try then, you’ve got fat fingers,” sulked Skinny.

“I have not!” cried Fatsy.

Fatsy tried the ring on, but it was too small, so small that it got stuck on her finger.  Clambering to get the ring off, she tried her best to be quiet about it.

“Ouch!  It’s completely stuck; well do something,” Fatsy cried out to Skinny.

Flustered and with no idea what to do, Skinny screamed with panic, “Oh what?”

They both tried to release the ring, as it was making Fatsy’s finger turn a royal blue colour.

Sorrow passing by, had heard her sister’s cries, and went into where they were to offer them help.

“Go away, go on, shoo,” ordered Skinny.

“No let her help, she’s better than you at these things,” said Fatsy, looking desperate for help.  Skinny felt rejected by Fatsy’s comments; she snubbed her nose at Fatsy and stepped aside to let Sorrow help her.

Sorrow tugged and tugged at the ring, while Fatsy was trying to muffle her screams, by holding her free hand over her mouth.  Sorrow gave a mighty pull, and the ring fell and rolled around on the floor.

The king had heard his daughter’s voices, and entered the chamber where the ring was kept, and called out “Hello, is everybody alright.”

“Fine Papa,” replied Skinny sheepishly.

The three of them stood to attention, covering the cushion where the ring was supposed to be, but was still lying on the floor.

The king asked in a fatherly manner, “What was all the crying?”

“Crying daddy,” answered Fatsy, trying to confuse her father.

“I heard crying coming from this room; I heard them,” insisted the king.

While their father was rattling on, wondering what all the noise was, Skinny turned to Sorrow and told her to pick the ring up.  Little Sorrow did a thing she would long regret.  Obediently she bent, she stooped, and she picked up the royal ring and slipped it on for safekeeping.

The king had stopped talking, and noticed something was amiss.  He moved towards the cushion and saw that the ring was gone.  In a shocked voice, the king said to his daughters, “Where’s your mother’s ring?”

Skinny pointed directly to Sorrow and said, “She was playing with it Dad.”

Fatsy didn’t want to get in trouble, she blamed it on Sorrow also, and said, “We didn’t want to tell, but it’s true that Sorrow was playing with it.”

“I wasn’t,” cried Sorrow.

The king looked at Sorrow, expecting her to speak the truth, but she kept telling him that she wasn’t playing with the ring.  The king went to hold Sorrow’s hand to comfort her, and he felt the ring on her finger.  He was shocked and couldn’t believe that Sorrow was capable of doing the wrong thing.  In a shaky voice he asked, “What’s that on your finger?  Oh no, not your ring finger!”

“It fits,” gasped Fatsy.

“Fits?” said the king, puzzled, disappointed at Sorrow’s actions, and afraid of what was to be done about the matter.

No sooner done, no sooner said, the news was afire in the palace, sweeping the royal corridors; the ring fitted the king’s daughter.

Sorrow sat in her room alone, disillusioned, and silent.

“I cannot marry my father, but I cannot ignore the law.  I cannot shame the king, but the ring fits,” Sorrow said aloud to herself, hoping to find some solution to her problem.

The king’s advisor was called for, to shed some positive light on the matter.

“Sire, it is the law of the land.  The ring fits your child’s finger, you must marry her,” said the advisor.

“Then I should cut off my finger!” cried out Sorrow, with a defensive attitude.  The king had either ignored his daughter’s words, or was too stressed to notice that she had said something.  He was not coping very well at all, and asked question after question, “Why did you play with the ring?  Why did you tamper with it?  The ceremony, when must it take place?”

The advisor turned to the king and said, “As soon as the preparations allow.”

Sorrow had preparations that must be carried out before she was to be married, and said, “Then first find me a dress of the palest silk, the colour of the moon, I will not wed, until I have it.”

The advisor looked at her with concern, and replied, “Very well, we will find this dress.”

Alone in her room, Sorrow in her woe, planned a plan and schemed a scheme.  To find such a gown will take time, and meantime, she must find a way out of the mess her sisters placed her in.

A week later, the advisor, the tailors, the king and the bad sisters went to Sorrow’s chamber, to show her the dress that had been designed for her.

Sorrow was amazed at what was before her, “Beautiful, beautiful!  But now I must have one of sparkling silver, like the stars; for my trousseau.”

The advisor became frustrated at her next order, as the last dress was like looking for a needle in a haystack.  He turned to the king and said, “Sire, where would we find such a dress.”

The king wished his daughter to have what she wanted, and told the advisor to do as his daughter bade.  “All in silver, sparkling with stars,” he commanded, as if he were speaking to a child.

Sorrow closed her bedroom door, to be alone to think, and off again went the king’s men, scouring the land for such a dress, and all the while in Sorrow’s room, another garment was being made.  Sorrow imagined the dress to be more marvelous and more magical, than the dress that was designed before.

Two weeks later, the advisor was at Sorrow’s bedroom door again, to show her the second dress she desired.

Sorrow did not come out of her room; she opened the door slightly, so that only her head was visible to all.

On seeing her dress, she spoke in a soft voice, “Beautiful, beautiful!  Just like the stars.”

The advisor was happy with his findings and was getting annoyed with Sorrow, treating him like a toy soldier.  He spoke to the king saying, “Sire, the counsel waits on you.  Your people grow impatient.  When do you marry?”

The king looked at Sorrow for an answer, and Sorrow spoke out in a methodical manner, “This gown is for the wedding feast, the first one for the procession.  But now I must have one for the church.  Gold it should be, gold as the sun.  Bring me such a dress, and the next day we shall wed.”

In hearing these words, the advisor shook his head and said to himself, “Gold she says, all gold like the sun, bring her such a dress and they shall be married the next day.”

Fatsy and Skinny listened to Sorrow commanding the advisor to do this and that.  They were at boiling point, “Ugh!  Gold,” Fatsy protested.

“She’s so spoilt,” added Skinny, and they ran off crying.

While the tailors cut clothes, spun with pure gold, Sorrow stayed shut up in her room.  She never appeared, only her friends, climbing through her bedroom window, and sneaking back out.  Busy, busy scurrying about.

Three weeks later, everyone came to Sorrow’s room, to show her the dress she had requested.  The advisor rapped loudly upon the door, and Sorrow answered, but did not appear before them.  She stayed hidden from prying eyes.

“Princess!” the advisor called out, with a puzzled look on his face.

“Yes,” replied the princess from behind the door, still hidden from view.

“I have here a dress, such as none before had seen; of gold, dazzling, a hundred hands have sewn it,” said the priest, still confused as to why Sorrow refused to show herself.

The tailors pushed the dress into the room, for her to view.

“It is what I asked for, very like the sun, then we must marry tomorrow,” said Sorrow in a calm voice.

Sorrow obtained the three gowns she requested, the ring fitted, the feasts were prepared, and she would be married the next day.  The next day came, the bells tolled, the streets filled with people.  Only Sorrow stayed silent in her room.

The advisor went to fetch Sorrow from her room.

“Your highness, please come out.  The king awaits you,” he begged her.

There was still no answer, and the advisor commanded the guardsmen to break down the door.  After a few minutes, the door was knocked down, and the guardsmen entered Sorrow’s room, only to find her missing.

A dark shadow emerged from beneath Sorrow’s bedroom window.  The dark shadow was in fact, Sorrow.  The princess was transformed from a ravishing beauty, to a strange thing of fur and feathers.  For such had been the secret works in the past weeks.  The ill-fated princess hurried away, her past discarded, her future unknown.

Two years later, a poor creature of fur and feathers tended geese in a king’s garden, and scrubbed the pots in the king’s kitchen.

Then one day, while Sorrow was scrubbing the king’s kitchen floors, the prince went into the kitchen calling out to the cook.  The prince saw Sorrow scrubbing hard at the floors and asked where the cook was; she didn’t look at him, just shook her head and carried on working.

“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” said the prince.

Sorrow stopped for a moment and looked at him, which made the prince shudder.

“Never mind; give the cook a message will you.  Tonight there is a great ball at the palace.  I’ve seen the menu and want geese at it.  He knows how I like it; roast goose with orange, baked in pastry,” said the prince hastily, trying to get the words out as fast as he could, so that he wouldn’t have to spend too much time looking at the hideous creature before him.

Sorrow stared at him with curiosity.  “What’s that look?” said the prince, commanding her to answer him.

“It’s a look; if there was a GST on looking, we’d all be beggars sire,” said Sorrow, forgetting who she was speaking to.

“What’s your name? I demand an answer,” insisted the angry prince.

While Sorrow scrubbed the floors, she stuttered with her words to force them to come out because she didn’t know what to say.  Eventually she spoke, “No name; they call me Sad Sack.”

The prince spoke with authority, and told her that she shouldn’t stare at princes, as it was not polite of one so low, or one so ugly, and he turned to walk away.

Sad Sack couldn’t hold her tongue, as she did not know how to behave in a commonly manner, and forgetting herself she protested, “Why eat geese?  They don’t harm you!”

The prince was appalled by her behaviour, and thought he had to calm himself down before his temper would hit boiling point.  He counted to ten and then told her that he happened to like geese.  Sad Sack being the staunch goose protecter, stood her ground and told him that she happened to like geese also, and that was why she didn’t eat them.

The prince couldn’t take anymore of her debates and ignored her words.  He gave her a little shove, and told her to mind her manners, then ordered her to pass on his message to the cook.  As he walked out of the kitchen he hollered out, “Roast goose and orange; a dozen of them.”

That night they sat, the geese, twelve cold stares on the royal table. 

While around them, many danced to techno, many daughters wore their mother’s pearls and ancient chastity belts; and the prince was there, handsome, admired, separate.  His parents looked on and hoped, but the prince stood and smiled, but did not head bang or break dance.

Until, late, unannounced, mysterious, a woman entered dressed in a dazzling gown, pale silk like the moon.  The prince didn’t know what to do; he walked towards her, he took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor, and they fell to techno dancing.  It was meant, as left to right, morning to night, dark to light; they belonged.  But when the music stopped, Sorrow fled from the palace, leaving the prince dumb struck and mystified.

“Wait, I don’t know your name,” he cried out, as she ran away into the darkness, without looking back or answering to his call.  The prince was left standing alone, with the feelings of being confused, excited, and tingling.  He was hooked, line and sinker.

The next day at the palace, all the servants were busy with their chores, and the prince was busy organising another ball.  Meanwhile, Sorrow and a few other maids were busy at work in the kitchen, when suddenly one of the boy servants came rushing into the kitchen demanding someone to load him up with fresh towels for the prince.  He had made the head maid go into a fluster, and she started running back and forwards around the kitchen screaming out, “Where is everybody!”

A young, rough looking maid named Kiwi, was drying dishes in a hurry; she answered the head maid in a gruff voice, “They’re all upstairs, busy doing their chores.”

As Kiwi dried the dishes, she felt stressed about the prince organising another ball so soon, as she and her fellow maids had barely recovered from the last one, but there was no use trying to get the night off.

While Kiwi was silently sulking about having to work that night, the boy servant yelled out, “Hey, is anyone going to get the prince his clean towels or what!”

The head maid looked around and saw Sorrow scrubbing the floors. 

“Oi!  Sad Sack, you go then,” said the nagging head maid.

Sorrow lifted herself from the floor, and made her way to where the towels were kept.  Sorrow with her matted hair, and dirty looking appearance took the towels to the prince, waiting in his bedroom. 

When she arrived at the door with his towels, he gave her a look of disgust then eyed the towels, to see if they were clean.

Sorrow noticed his manner, and said with a tinge of sarcasm, “I’m sorry, do I disgust you?”

The prince laughed in her face and calmly said, “You amaze me; look, cats chase mice, hens lay eggs.”

Sorrow was confused, and asked what did he mean.

“It means some things have to do with other things.  I have nothing to do with you.  You don’t disgust me because I don’t think about you.  Now go away, and keep below the stairs,” said the prince smoothing the towels down, attempting to scrape away the hair that Sorrow had malted onto them.  Sorrow was hurt by what he had said, and turned to walk back downstairs.  She thought, if he could see my eyes, he might notice that I am the one whom he’s in love with.  But the prince could not see his princess through the feathers and fur.

That night was the second ball to be held at the palace.  Beauties came and beauties went, danced a dance, but the prince stood alone, hoping, staring at the great doors, but nothing, there was no sign of his princess.

Then a dividing of the room, and the mysterious woman appeared in a dress sparkling with silver, like the stars.  The prince walked towards her, and again, led her to the dance floor.  But this time, they danced to a slow, romantic dance.  After awhile, she spoke “I must go.”

The prince looked at her with puppy dog eyes and said, “Please don’t leave.  I think of nothing but you.”

She found it hard to believe, as he had said that he didn’t think about her earlier on that same day.  Refusing to think that he didn’t know whom he was speaking to then, and she rolled her eyes back into her head, as if to say, “yeah right.”

He saw her reaction to his plea and said, “It’s true, I can’t sleep and I can’t eat.”

Sorrow turned away, and fled from the palace, like she did the night before.  He ran after her asking her where she lived, and where she hung out.  As Sorrow was running off, the prince heard her voice fading into the dark night, “I live where hens catch mice, and cats lay eggs.”

The prince couldn’t make any sense of what she had said, and he went into silence, thinking to himself, why does she have to go?

The next day, the prince sat in the royal garden, dreaming of his beloved; when Sorrow came along, carrying buckets of water to wash the kitchen floors with, she took the prince by surprise, by asking him what was the matter.  Startled, the prince swung around to see who it was, that spoke to him, only to find Sorrow standing there.  The prince was aghast, and blurted out, “Nobody else in the whole palace; in the whole kingdom, speaks to me like this.”

She looked at him with sympathetic eyes and said, “Are you in love, is that the problem?”  And before Sorrow could finish what she was going to say, the prince interrupted her, and said in a frantic tone of voice, “You couldn’t possibly understand what I was thinking.”

Sorrow continued, saying, “Or are you worried that you only love your sweetheart for her beautiful gowns?”

The prince had so much to say, and in a noble manner, he professed that if his girl were dressed in dirty rags, or if she were the poorest, he would still love her.  He gasped for breath and added, “My girl has eyes like; a voice like; oh it’s perfect.  Not her dresses; but how could you possibly understand.”

Sorrow listened to the excited prince, and told him that he should marry the girl he spoke about.

The prince got even more excited, when marriage was mentioned.  “I want to; I want to, but I can’t find her, I don’t know where she lives or where she hangs out,” said the prince pacing up and down the garden.

Sorrow decided to confide in the prince, her love sick problem, hoping that he would recognise her. “I have a problem like yours, what advice would you give me,” she said settling her buckets of water down.

The prince didn’t know what to say, and he asked what her guy was like.

She let out a deep sigh and said, “Handsome, proud, a great dancer, and an awesome rapper.”  She looked into the prince’s eyes and continued, “You see, when I think about him, it makes my head hurt, and my tummy ache, and my skin tingle, and my heart does little somersaults.”

The prince butted in and shouted out, “I get those feelings too; you’re definitely in love.”

As he was thinking of some advice to give, the head maid’s voice was heard close by, calling out, “Sad Sack!  Sad Sack!  Where the devil have you got to?”

Sorrow excused herself.  The prince let her go, but then asked her if she wouldn’t mention to anyone that they had spoken.  He thought that if she had told anyone about their conversation, people would think that he was common, talking to someone so low in society.  Sorrow swore never to tell anyone anything, and they parted company.

The prince was love sick.  Before it was dark, he stood waiting upon the terrace, in front of the ballroom.  Tonight, he thought; I’ll see my girl tonight.  Meanwhile, in the kitchen, all the servants including Sorrow were busy cleaning dishes, and serving food to the prince’s guests.  A servant boy rushed into the kitchen, to inform the maids that the prince’s mystery girl had not arrived.  All the maids stopped to listen to the hot gossip, while Sorrow was trying to hurry things along she cried out, “Could I please have the dishes to dry.”

“Ewww!  Look at this one,” said the servant boy, pointing at Sorrow. 

“Meeting a sweetheart; that’s why the prince is still waiting, she hasn’t finished the dishes yet,” he said with a giggle, and all the maids let out a mighty roar of laughter.

Two hours later, the ball had ended, and everyone had departed from the palace.  The prince was left sitting sad and lonely on the terrace steps.  Suddenly, out of the darkness, Sorrow appeared in a shimmering gold gown, like the sun.  The prince walked slowly towards her and took her by the hand.  They didn’t speak, just held each other close.  The bells tolled, the evening had ended, and the heartfelt embrace was over.

Sorrow ran from the palace, like she had done at the previous two balls.  As she ran, one of her golden Nike sneaker’s slipped off.  The prince fetched it and thought to himself, now I would be able to find my fly girl.

The next day, a proclamation rang out around the palace.  The prince would marry the girl who fitted the golden Nike sneaker.

Sorrow was in the kitchen thinking, what was true of the finger, would be true of the fault.  She was cursed by the ring, could she be blessed by the sneaker?  A servant boy, who was great for keeping the maids up with the latest royal gossip, came hurrying into the kitchen.  “There’s a queue now, but it fits nobody,” he said, and hurried away, to find out more juicy gossip.

The head maid tugged at her apron and proclaimed, “I might try, you never know.”

The rough looking maid, Kiwi, yelled out a snide remark, “You!  You’ve got feet like a Yorkshire pudding!”

“I have not,” said the head maid defending herself.  She looked across the room towards Sorrow and asked sarcastically, “And what about our little beauty, are you gonna have a try.”

“I might,” said Sorrow promptly.

“Ha!” cried out the maid, she laughed at her so much, that she just about wet herself.

After Sorrow’s chores were done, she went to try on the sneaker.  When she entered the room, she was shocked to see her two sisters trying on the shoe.  Fatsy was squeezing her foot into the sneaker.  “If I could just, just, aaahhh,” she screamed out.  She had achieved the impossible; the shoe was on her foot.  She jumped and shouted for joy.  The prince was getting worried and told her that she wasn’t the one.  But Fatsy showed him that the shoe fitted; she claimed him for her husband, and bear hugged him so hard, that he was about to pass out.

The prince looked across towards the guardsman, the protector of the Nike sneaker, giving him the look of despair, as if to cry out for help.

The protector of the Nike sneaker didn’t know what to say, to save his prince and said, “According to the proclamation, the prince must marry the woman who can wear the golden Nike sneaker.” 

The guardsman stood tall and began to announce the latest news, “Princess Fatsy from far away.  Daughter of,” he cried out.

Then he looked at Fatsy, so she could tell him who her father was, but Fatsy told him the story about how her mother had died a long time ago, and how her father had died the year before.  The guardsman couldn’t remember where he was up to, and so he began with a very loud voice and announced, “Princess Fatsy from far away.  Daughter of nobody; she will marry the prince tomorrow.”

“Yeeha!” cried out Fatsy, while performing a victory dance, which looked a bit like a plump chicken, waddling around in search of food.

Then suddenly, her victory dance came to a halt, and she began to hobble around on one foot.  “Now that I’ve won the competition, can I just take this silly shoe off please?” said Fatsy, in pain.

The prince asked why, and she told him how the shoe didn’t match the one she was wearing, and that it was a teensy, weensy bit tight, and she began to groan.  “In fact, I think I may just have to have a tiny baby scream,” and she pursed her lips together tightly, and squeezed her eyes closed.  She hobbled towards Skinny, and asked her to help take the shoe off her foot because she was going to scream very loudly shortly.  “I think my leg is turning a little on the maroon side.  It is!”  she said, and she let out a scream that echoed through the entire palace.

Skinny bent down to help her sister, but Fatsy was shouting and moving around so much, that it was impossible to wrench the shoe from her fat foot.  The prince watched with amusement, and was having a bit of a chuckle about the situation, when the shoe went flying across the room, and landed at Sorrow’s feet.

Sorrow picked up the sneaker and walked over to the prince, and said that she wished to claim her right to try the sneaker on.  The two sisters were stunned, and stared with their mouths wide open.  “Ladies darling, are they not creatures, what is it?” asked Skinny, stepping back and taking a hold of Fatsy, so that the creature could not touch them.

“Get rid of it!” demanded Fatsy.

“She’s called Sad Sack,” said the prince, in his noble manner.

Sorrow slipped the sneaker on and low and behold, the shoe fitted.

The two sisters could not believe their eyes that the shoe fitted the creature’s foot.

“It does fit.  Will you keep your promise,” asked Sorrow.

Skinny tried to talk the prince out of marrying some hideous creature, by telling him not to be ridiculous, and that he couldn’t marry that thing.

The prince swallowed hard, and agreed to marry Sorrow.

Her friends rushed in and took the disguise away, and transformed Sorrow into the beautiful young princess she always had been.

Fatsy and Skinny stood dumb founded when they saw who it was.  It was their long lost sister, Sorrow.  The prince ran into her arms, and held her tightly.

“My princess, it’s you,” he said dotingly.

“Darling, darling, honey, honey,” they repeated to each other.  And what the prince didn’t know, he very soon found out, and they talked and talked, explaining this and explaining that: stories of rings, and stories of fur and feathers; and they wept for her dear dad.  They forgave Fatsy and Skinny for being horrid towards her, and they danced for a day without running away.  After that, they married and had a son named William, and they lived happily ever after in their chocolate factory.

  

THE END.