Kevin Wade Johnson
Princess Onesie glared from under her brows at her tutor; the princess was in high dudgeon. At age eleven, she already had firm notions in her head. A head, it might be said, that was thought to be quite attractive, although that could change. As so many things so often do, her aunt was wont to remark. My chin's down, she thought. Does that make it low dudgeon? What's dudgeon anyway? She shook off the thought, something she did a lot during tutoring, and said, "Why do I have to study all this anyway?" "History is so important!" Miss Crumpet exclaimed. "Imagine if you didn't know who all your ancestors are. Or were?" She frowned. "They aren't alive, after all, at least most of them. And yet they remain your ancestors. Present or past?" Miss Crumpet's brow cleared beneath her old-fashioned bonnet. "Either way, think about it, Your Highness." She smiled at her only pupil, who'd be a favorite even if Miss Crumpet taught hundreds. "One day you'll be an ancestor. Do you want to be forgotten?" "No, but—" "Well, then!" The princess' elderly tutor smiled. "Remember, one day you'll be history too." Princess Onesie wasn't sure that made sense the way Miss Crumpet worded it, but had that same thought that at least three times a day, and was used to disregarding it. Changing the subject, she said, "Why do you always wear a bonnet?" "Why do you always wear one-piece pajamas indoors?" Miss Crumpet seemed genuinely curious. "Branding," the princess said defiantly. "Me too!" exclaimed Miss Crumpet. Princess Onesie leaned forward, elbows on the table, of heavy wood from the nearby Fae Forest. "All right," she conceded. "So who's this again?" Miss Crumpet smiled at her fondly. "One of the greatest characters of the royal line, known for a truly…erratic fashion sense, Queen Houppelande, your great-great-great-great—"
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