She was busy folding mounds of dough over and over. And she had already heard. "We need you here. We need to provide the palace with our very best tarts and buns and rolls," she told me.
"But Mama, this is a royal ball! And I can go! Inside! Inside the palace!" I was dancing around the little kitchen, practicing how I would greet the lords and ladies as I imagined them surrounding me.
"I'm sorry, Tess. I know you want to go, but we need every hand we can get. The king has ordered thousands of treats to be made. This is our change to serve the King. This is the biggest chance we will ever get."
I knew she was right, but it just didn't seem fair. "So while Liz and Anne and Mary are dancing with the prince and his royal friends I'll be stuck here flouring and kneading and baking?"
Mama brushed a hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand as she turned to look at me. "Liz and Anne and Mary probably won't be going either. They have families who need their help just as much as we need yours."
"Who's going to visit the apothecary or order a new saddle when they 'be been invited to the palace to dance with the prince."
My big brother, ever the unhelpful cynic, chose that time to chime in. "Even if they do go to the ball, they're not likely to actually dance with the prince. He'll spend all his time with the daughters of the nobles in all their silks and diamonds and pearls. He'll hardly have eyes for the daughters of the baker or tanner. You're more likely to meet him on the street than at his ball."
I told him to go stuff his mouth and got an earful from Mama. As punishment for my rude mouth I got stuck pushing the raisins into the little round biscuits to be served at the ball I was not to attend.
For one small moment I had imagined being in the grand staircase, and instead I would deliver goods to the back door.
So much for every maid in the kingdom.
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