Charles F. D. Egbert - The Story of Princess Olivia

Wherein an Optimistic Slip of a Girl Brings Sunshine
Into the Lives of Her Royal Parents, the Whiny King
and the Scolding Queen, and Outsmarts the Despicable
Count Carlos Maximillian von Dusseldorf (with two ss) and
His Magical Minion, the Mischievous, Poetical Georgette
and What is a Hoop Snake Anyway?

a novel by
Charles F. D. Egbert
Illustrated by Kathie Kellerher

To my wife Carol for her love and help, and to the littlest
Egbert, our granddaughter Anneke Isabelle

www.bunkerhillpublishing.com
by Bunker Hill Publishing Inc.
285 River Road, Piermont
New Hampshire 03779, USA

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Copyright text 2013 Charles Egbert
Copyright illustrations 2013 Kathie Kelleher

All rights reserved.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013934781

ISBN 978-1-59373-147-2

Designed by Joe Lops
Printed in China

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior
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Along, long time ago, in the Green Mountain Kingdom that is now called Vermont, there was a princess named Olivia. She had dark brown eyes and long brown hair with bangs in the front and a ponytail in the back. She was a serious person. She lived with her father, King Horace, and her mother, Queen Cora. Their castle was set high in the green hills and deep in the dark forests near the tiny town of Ipswich that clung to the side of a hill across Beaver Creek. They had a marvelous view of Mount Ascutney.

The castle had once been grand. The beautiful gardens surrounding the castle had gone to weed and seed. Brambles and wild grapevines grew over the marble statues that lined the spacious terraces, and volunteer asparagus, violets, and dandelions grew where there should have been grass.

Even worse than the condition of the castle was the condition of the Royal Bank Account. It was as empty as the pantry. The Royal Family suffered a great deal, and so did the farmers and townspeople of Ipswich. They asked, Why us? and, What have we done to deserve this? But they never asked, Who is doing this to us? Because they knew! Everyone knew that all the bad things that happened in the Green Mountain Kingdom were because of Count Carlos Maximillian von Dusseldorf who was a flatlander. Some Royal subjects even thought he was European!

One pleasant sunny day in summer, after a very meager lunch, King Horace went back to bed to nurse his ailments. Queen Cora tried to amuse Olivia with one of her stories about life on the farm near Tunbridge, where she lived before she met Horace. It was a good story about cows and horses and goats and sheep and how she had to feed them all and how difficult it was and how brave she had to be. As soon as she finished it she started to cry. Things were that bad.

Princess Olivia felt sorry for her mother and patted her hand. I wish I could help you, Mother, I really do. I wish I could do something for you and Father. Her soft brown eyes were full of concern.

Thank you. Queen Cora stopped crying, blew her nose, and went to look after Horace. Looking after Horace was a full-time job.

Princess Olivia went out to her bower. She liked to be alone there, especially on nice sunny days like this one. Her bower was near the orchard, beyond the formal gardens, and a mere stones throw from the castle. It was surrounded by large sugar maple trees and a few popples, which people in the rest of the world call poplars. The leaves from the trees dappled the sunlight that danced across the soft green grass. Usually she played on her swing or sat quietly and enjoyed her solitude, but on this day she was morose. She didnt have any friends, and her head was full of worry. What would become of her? Would she ever have any adventures? Would she come to the bower every day until she was so old that she couldnt come anymore, and then have to sit in a rocking chair by a window in the castle and wait for the sun to set? She was very sad.

To cheer herself up, she decided to think about something else, and the first thing that came to mind was the poem that shed written for Diane. Diane was the name shed given to an imaginary little sister, and went like this:

I wish I had a little sister,
Wed run and play and climb a tree,
I know what I would like to call her,
Diane, Diane, shed be to me.

Wed fill the world with raucous laughter,
Just she and me, at lunch and tea.
Wed dance and dance, forever after,
All round and roundfantasticly.

Wed talk all day in regal chatter,
Of Dukes and Earls and Royalty,
Wed board a ship and hoist the anchor,
And sail the sea, the deep blue sea.

That was as far as she had gotten. She had lots more to say about Diane, but choosing the right words took time.

Do you know what else Id like to have? she said out loud. A butler! Think about it! Wouldnt it be great to have somebody bring you a glass of lemonade whenever you liked, or clean up your room when it was a mess, or tie your shoes when youre too tired to bend over. Wouldnt that be great? I think Id call him Binkerton. The shoes, Binkerton, the laces are a bit loose, she said, putting her dainty foot forward. Thank you, Binkerton.

Her cheerful thoughts didnt last long. Soon she was thinking again about her poor parents. If I could just do something to help them, she said to herself. I know that they used to be rich and regal, but now, because of that horrid Count Carlos, theyre poor and miserable.

She was about to plop down in the grass to figure out what she could possibly do to help her parents, whenYIKESthere, right there, where she was going to sit, was a SNAKE! Thats right, a snake, a snake in the grass!

Heavens to Betsy! she shouted and jumped away. Then, when shed looked at it more carefully, she said, Oh, my goodness! Theres something wrong with it. It isnt wiggling like a normal snake. Its more like a huge ring.

Olivia knew, from her Natural History of the Green Mountain Kingdom, that it was a genuine Green Mountain Hoop Snake. She had read that they formed themselves into hoops to roll down hills, which was much better than slithering if one had a delicate tummy, especially if the ground was gritty.

And, oh my, she said, observing it even more carefully, he has swallowed his tail! Heavens to Betsy!

She turned to the snake who, despite his tail problem, had a small but very pleasant smile, and said, Good afternoon. She didnt know if he would respond. She listened carefully but all she heard was hissy-hissy.

Boldly, she put her ear nearer to the snake and said, Could you speak a little louder, please?

Hissy-hissy.

What was that?

Hissy-hissy, the snake repeated as she put her ear down even closer.

After a moment she said, Oh, Im fine, thank you, Sir. Then she listened again. What? Oh, yes, I imagine it must be very difficult to talk when you have a tail down your throat. How did it happen?

In order to hear him, she picked up the snake and was surprised that he was dry rather than slimy. She held the snake to the side of her head like a telephone and listened.