Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Pumpkin Carriage

"All of mine were reserved months in advance," one carriage-maker told me gleefully. "Why don't you try borrowing a shopkeeper's wagon?"

"I can't have my princess riding in a shopkeeper's wagon," I said disdainfully, though the minute we left, I went and asked every shopkeeper I could find.

But my efforts were in vain. Every single wagon had been taken. I was told that some of the other fairy godmothers had paid a king's ransom for one, even if it was falling apart and painted to hide the splinters.

I slumped against the wall of the last shop with a sigh. I thought about begging for the use of an official C.A.F.E. carriage, but if even the butcher's wagon was reserved, those were most likely unavailable. "I am a horrible fairy godmother. How could I have forgotten?"

Cynthia patted my shoulder. "You're a wonderful fairy godmother," she said reassuringly. "You remembered the extra bandages to show the prince what a wonderful mother I'd make if I stepped on his foot while dancing and had to wrap up the wound."

She kept talking, but I was busy wondering whether there was time to write home to Dad to borrow his wagon. Maybe Dad could send me the wheelbarrow he used to shuttle pumpkins around in the patch.

I chuckled, imagining Cynthia on a wheelbarrow, glass slippers in the air as I hurtled her toward the castle. And then it hit me.

PUMPKINS.

My eyes flew open.

"I've got it."

Cynthia nodded. "I know. You're going to keep it with you and if I feel nauseated, you'll open it and hold it under my chin . . ."

I shook my head impatiently. "No, no, I'm not talking about the emergency barf bag." I rubbed my hands together. "If we can't find a carriage, or a wagon, or a wheelbarrow, then we're just going to have to make a vehicle."

This time, I was not stuck in the woods.

This time, I had time to execute my plan.

With only two nights left until the ball, I gathered pen and paper and feverishly drew design after design. I sketched ink doors and windows. I experimented with different types of vine wheel spirals. I left the top on every pumpkin I drew, which would look prettier and also shield Cynthia from bad weather. I didn't want my client arriving with limp curls if it decided to rain. I scrawled in comfortable seats and fastenings with which to harness the horses.

Or horse, rather.

I had rushed to headquarters as soon as I came up with the idea and had consulted Maud. She looked pale and had dark shadows under her eyes, but had perked up at my plan.

"I can get you a horse," she promised. "You can use one of Grandma Lin's stallions."

I hauled the three remaining pumpkins from Dad off my windowsill and into a quiet corner of the park, where I could work in privacy.

My first attempt was a failure, because I couldn't remember what I had done the first time with my magic wand. I finally figured it out with my second pumpkin, but forgot to make a door when I hollowed it out.

"Attach a wooden one," suggested Muffet, who had come to watch me work.

"That wouldn't look very pretty," I said doubtfully.

I triumphed at last with the third pumpkin, which was a good thing because my gossamer powder was running low. The carriage was large and rather magnificent (if I did say so myself) and had two perfect doors that opened out on hinges I had cut from the tough pumpkin stem. The seats were roomy enough to accommodate two girls in big gowns.