In the forest they gathered, each prince livid over the dishonor he had just been shown. Fired!
"It's outrageous!" Hamlin, Cinderella's prince, bellowed. "Simply outrageous! Why, when I was born into this kingdom, nowhere did it say in my birth certificate that I'd be subjected to such humiliation!"
"It's purely prejudice," sniffed the pompous Clive, prince of the beautiful sleeping maiden. "That man just can't handle the upper class."
"And you can't handle a bunch of little thorns," Gavin sniggered.
"At least I'm not allergic to my princess!"
Gavin lunged at Clive, but Hamlin held him back.
"There's no fighting with Clive, remember?"
"Right, right," Gavin muttered, shaking Hamlin off, "he's 'anemic.'"
Clive turned red with rage.
"I am! Really!"
"Sure you are. And I'm Alexander the Great." Gavin sneered. "Admit it. You're just chicken."
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Look, the only one who's chicken is poor Prince. He's the only one scared of his princess!"
Prince blanched. He was the youngest among the princes, and the smallest, and the other princes made him rather nervous, the way they were always gallivanting off fighting dragons and such and getting themselves mortally wounded. It just didn't seem all that appealing to him. In fact, Prince found that he didn't mind having to be a woodcutter's son. Still, he did not like being picked on.
"I'm not exactly scared of her," he explained quietly, "I'm just scared of, well, heights. It's not my fault, really."
Clive snorted.
"Then who's fault is it, little Prince? Is it your mama's? Did she drop you as a baby?"
Prince reddened.
"Look," he said, holding his temper, if you don't like what the old man did, firing us and all, then just stage a revolt. A protest. No one's making you do anything, you know."
Reginald, who had been silent until now in his fury, suddenly spoke up.
"The kid's right, you know," he mused. "We could hold a revolution! A coup d'etat!"
In truth, Reginald didn't mind being fired from Princehood, either. He rather didn't want to have to turn into a frog in order for his princess to kiss him. It was not in the least dignified, and if there was one thing Reginald was stringent about, it was about being dignified. However, the other thing Reginald really liked was wars. It was all the more dignifying to have everyone involved in a messy war while he sat, regal and dignified, in his palace. It made him look good.
The other princes in the forest, and there were many, were all riled up by now.
"A revolution!" they cried.
"We'll show the old bugger!"
"He won't mess with us anymore!"
"Who needs princesses anyway?"
"Hurrah!"
"We're gonna pick the old fart up and eat him for breakfast!"
"And then we'll spit him out and stamp on him!"
"Yeah!"
Prince, who did not realize his suggestion would have such an effect, was mortified.
"No," he said loudly, "we can't...we shouldn't do that..."
He sighed. It was no use. He was too shy and overwhelmed to make himself heard.
"And the old man will never-"
"Who is the old man, anyway?" Prince cried out, exasperated.
There was immediate silence in the forest as every single prince looked down at Prince.
"You mean you don't know?" Clive asked in a hushed voice. Prince backed away a little and began to say, "Well...I – I,"
A bunch of the princes surrounding him began to laugh.
"Look at the ignorant little princeling," they howled, filled to the brim with mirth. Hamlin bent down and put his arm around Prince's shoulders.
"Let me tell you, boy," he said hoarsely in a low voice, "the story of the old man."
"It's outrageous!" Hamlin, Cinderella's prince, bellowed. "Simply outrageous! Why, when I was born into this kingdom, nowhere did it say in my birth certificate that I'd be subjected to such humiliation!"
"It's purely prejudice," sniffed the pompous Clive, prince of the beautiful sleeping maiden. "That man just can't handle the upper class."
"And you can't handle a bunch of little thorns," Gavin sniggered.
"At least I'm not allergic to my princess!"
Gavin lunged at Clive, but Hamlin held him back.
"There's no fighting with Clive, remember?"
"Right, right," Gavin muttered, shaking Hamlin off, "he's 'anemic.'"
Clive turned red with rage.
"I am! Really!"
"Sure you are. And I'm Alexander the Great." Gavin sneered. "Admit it. You're just chicken."
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Look, the only one who's chicken is poor Prince. He's the only one scared of his princess!"
Prince blanched. He was the youngest among the princes, and the smallest, and the other princes made him rather nervous, the way they were always gallivanting off fighting dragons and such and getting themselves mortally wounded. It just didn't seem all that appealing to him. In fact, Prince found that he didn't mind having to be a woodcutter's son. Still, he did not like being picked on.
"I'm not exactly scared of her," he explained quietly, "I'm just scared of, well, heights. It's not my fault, really."
Clive snorted.
"Then who's fault is it, little Prince? Is it your mama's? Did she drop you as a baby?"
Prince reddened.
"Look," he said, holding his temper, if you don't like what the old man did, firing us and all, then just stage a revolt. A protest. No one's making you do anything, you know."
Reginald, who had been silent until now in his fury, suddenly spoke up.
"The kid's right, you know," he mused. "We could hold a revolution! A coup d'etat!"
In truth, Reginald didn't mind being fired from Princehood, either. He rather didn't want to have to turn into a frog in order for his princess to kiss him. It was not in the least dignified, and if there was one thing Reginald was stringent about, it was about being dignified. However, the other thing Reginald really liked was wars. It was all the more dignifying to have everyone involved in a messy war while he sat, regal and dignified, in his palace. It made him look good.
The other princes in the forest, and there were many, were all riled up by now.
"A revolution!" they cried.
"We'll show the old bugger!"
"He won't mess with us anymore!"
"Who needs princesses anyway?"
"Hurrah!"
"We're gonna pick the old fart up and eat him for breakfast!"
"And then we'll spit him out and stamp on him!"
"Yeah!"
Prince, who did not realize his suggestion would have such an effect, was mortified.
"No," he said loudly, "we can't...we shouldn't do that..."
He sighed. It was no use. He was too shy and overwhelmed to make himself heard.
"And the old man will never-"
"Who is the old man, anyway?" Prince cried out, exasperated.
There was immediate silence in the forest as every single prince looked down at Prince.
"You mean you don't know?" Clive asked in a hushed voice. Prince backed away a little and began to say, "Well...I – I,"
A bunch of the princes surrounding him began to laugh.
"Look at the ignorant little princeling," they howled, filled to the brim with mirth. Hamlin bent down and put his arm around Prince's shoulders.
"Let me tell you, boy," he said hoarsely in a low voice, "the story of the old man."