Wednesday, November 6, 2013

The wacky story of Snow White...

Dear Friends,
At your request I will confess the real story of Princess Snow White. The tale told these many years is false, so I have offered to tell you the truth of how she married. Here is the story of our dearly beloved majesty as I witnessed any. Anything I did not witness was told to me by the princess herself. I give this story with the best respects to her and the Prince.  
Once upon a time in a great, powerful kingdom ruled a wicked queen. Her step daughter, Snow Eliza White, was left in her care when King Frederick White died. The queen was known throughout the land for her beauty, and she was determined to marry the young prince of a neighboring nation, Fitzwilliam, who was handsome, powerful, and wealthy. This determination impacted the way she talked, acted, and dressed. Anything to please Prince Fitzwilliam, the queen thought.  She neglected Snow. Never the less, Snow did not complain. Everything about her from her oversized ears to her pale white skin was ugly. Snow had nothing of her step mother’s beauty but was as round, plain, and pale as a snow ball. At the palace she lived a private, quiet life polishing the shiny silver ware, tending her garden, and reading books about pretty heroines. The queen  never guessed Prince Fitzwilliam would take a liking to the ugly little princess so she was greatly surprised when her fretful lady in waiting, Miss Marian Mirror, informed her that the prince had told his man servant, whom Miss Marian knew fairly well, that he had set his heart on marrying Snow. At once the queen was horrified but she would take no chances. Snow must be slain. All along Snow had no idea the queen was plotting to kill her. She had never me Prince Fitzwilliam. She was tending her garden, patting down the soil with a chubby hand, when the butcher ran up to her panting desperately.
“Snow!” he wailed sweat pouring down his face. “I am supposed to kill you.”
“What?” she bounded up in horror.
He gulped, “The queen says I have to kill you.”
Terror and shock penetrated the princess’ face as she realized the butcher was carrying an ax.
“I can’t kill you,” he added bitterly. “I could never kill a princess or an innocent girl.”
Snow stared at him in disbelief, “The queen would never do that.”
“But she has,” he answered rubbing his hairless head with his thumb, “you better run away and hide lest she kills you.”
“But why is she mad at me?” Snow wanted to know
The butcher could not answer but he begged Snow to leave quickly if she wanted to live. So, that very day, a bedraggled princess in her gardening dress fled with no knowledge of where she would go but only the fear of what she left behind eroding her mind. Soon she was lost in an unfamiliar forest where she stumbled around through hedges. Her dress tore and her tears stained her face pink. At long last the princess found shelter in a tavern, home to seven wild men and their wild families. Snow was given the drafty attic to sleep in. It was so moldy she had to be careful where she stepped but Snow was grateful for a home. The residents were crude, barbaric people who treated Snow like a servant but she tended them patiently. Soon she found that all the men and their families had terrorizing tempers. Every day Snow lived in fear of these wild people but they fed her and let her call the attic home. Thus passed many long months for Snow.  Having lived all her life at the palace, Snow was not used to going to bed hungry and feeling dirty always.
Down by the creek not far from the tavern while washing clothes Snow caught a glimpse of herself in the clear reflection of the icy water. She gaped with disgust and surprise. Up from the water gapping back at her was a hungry, mud stained face. Tears sprang into the princesses’ eyes as she noted hopelessly that she looked as wild as the tavern owners.
“But I’m a princess,” she whispered determinedly to the reflection. It seemed to mock her very words by its filth.
Snow had eaten the food of the tavern people, dried pork, canned beans, and a mushy contraption they told her were grits. Some days her stomach growled for good food. It was on one of these days that a wealthy looking man came to the tavern carrying a basket of fresh apples.
“Um,” Snow crept shyly up to him from the corner she had been mopping staring at the apples greedily. “Excuse me, sir,” she whimpered in desperation.
“Yes,” he turned on her kindly.
“May I please have an apple,” begged Snow to hungry to think of propriety.
The man’s master had told him sternly not to do anything with the apples until they were safely delivered to the palace but out of pity the man reached into the basket. One could not hurt, he consoled himself. Then very kindly he gave the apple to Snow. Little did she know that the fruit was a gift for the queen from Prince Fitzwilliam.
Without waiting Snow dug her teeth into the apple and took one juicy bite of it. She collapsed. The poor man was horrified, but nothing he could do would revive Snow. The tavern people were indignant for Snow had, after all, been a good servant. Their anger burned against the helpless man servant. To save his life, he fled and returned with the Prince a day later. Snow was still alive but unconscious.  Evidently Prince Fitzwilliam had accidently poisoned her in hopes of poisoning her step mother with the apples.
“The poor girl,” lamented Prince Fitzwilliam, “it should be a matter of days before she dies.”
He had no idea the peasant was Snow.
“Is there nothing I can do?” his manservant wondered distraught.
There was only one thing. Of his many good traits, one was the prince had studied many medical books. He busied himself with a procedure in hopes to take the poison out of Snow’s body. The bewildered tavern men listened to the prince’s long explanation without understanding a word of it. A surgery took place in the tavern that night under the prince’s skilled hand. He had always wanted to be a doctor. By morning, Snow was unconscious but still alive.
She awoke in the evening under the watch of the prince. “Where am I?” was her first question.
  “Good evening, patient,” was the merry response of Prince Fitzwilliam.
She was informed by one of the tavern men that the prince had saved her life. Snow was most grateful to him and she explained that she was Princess Snow Eliza White.
“Is it possible!” gasped Prince Fitzwilliam.
Now Snow was under the impression that the Prince had told his servant he meant to marry her, a false impression. No one knew the queen’s lady in waiting had lied. Snow was waiting for the Prince to propose to her but when he did not after a long time  she finally asked
“Aren’t you going to ask to marry me?”
The Prince was taken back. “How did you know?” he asked. “I was in love with you ever since I saw you dying on the floor of the tavern. I have just been too scared to tell you so.”
When Snow was well she married the Prince and lived in his far away castle where she lives to this day. We can only hope that this story will end happily ever after. So far it looks promising.
That is the story. Do not question me about it again. Tell it to who you wish.
                                                                                                                                                Sincerely yours,
 John Green, the butcher

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