"NOOOOOO!" Alan wailed. "I WON'T GOOOOO!" He hugged Alianne's rag doll to his chest.

"Alan, you are going. Get down here. NOW," Alanna's voice was icy. She glared at him. "What a drama
queen," she muttered, causing Alianne to giggle. "George, YOUR SON won't come downstairs," Alanna
called. "Maybe he'd rather have you escort them to Corus instead of me."

"No, dad makes me hunt and cook and it gets my hands dirty!" Alan exclamed, shaking gloved hands
around.

"Those better be riding gloves, no silk ones," Alanna warned him.

"Um, they are," he said, meekly tucking his hands behind his back. "I'm not going," he muttered.

"George, go get YOUR SON," Alanna said, walking outside. "I'll have nothing to do with him. Come on,
Alianne." Alianne followed, shooting a glance at Alan.

Alan sighed. "FINE, I'll go, but I'll hate it, and I'll fail and wear gowns and earbobs and I'll curtsy!" He
climbed onto his horse, Pretty Prancing Princess. "Let's go," he said primly, trying to ride like a lady.
Unfortunately. he was in a tilting saddle and fell in the mud. "Yuck! MOOOOOMY!" he cried.

Alanna rolled her eyes. What a wonderful start.