At the market, Isabella treated her morning like a conquest. She bargained with tailors using a mixture of sharp tongue and sweeter-than-sugar smiles, procured ribbons under the auspices of “royal enhancement,” and tested every meringue within a fifty-mile radius with the solemnity of an official food inspector. She lectured a fishmonger on the ethics of live eels with the fierce compassion of someone who had once been forced to listen to a soggy lullaby. She adopted, for the span of an hour, a stray kitten who insisted on sitting in her lap as though conducting a vote of confidence.
If you find yourself serving (or living with) an Isabella, remember these three rules for a peaceful morning: If you must speak, whisper. brat princess Isabella Cranky princess has to get up
, and for the first time in her pampered life, Isabella had to get up. At the market, Isabella treated her morning like a conquest
“Isabella,” the queen tried a firmer tone. “If you are not out of this bed in ten minutes, there will be no honeyed tarts for a month.” She adopted, for the span of an hour,
Isabella realizes that if she stays in bed, she misses the chance to be the "most amazing one in the family" at the upcoming royal parade.
Eventually, Isabella will emerge. She’ll be draped in velvet, her hair will be perfect, and she’ll act as if the three-act tantrum she just threw never happened. But we know the truth. Behind every "perfect" princess is a girl who just wants to go back to sleep.
Then, very quietly, almost against her will, the corner of her mouth twitched.