******k, i know some of you are confused on the manner of sparks flying (sorta, i guess) between sam and zoi. someone said that i said in where would i hide without the mask that sam married areida's daughter. very very good question, indeed! i might have made a mistake, and i might not have. close close readers of the first two chapters and of the summary of the story will suspect something that i have not told you yet! you will see!***

The little boy that had followed me home from the market was not three feet behind me by the time I reached home. I turned to him and he shrunk back.

"I won't hurt you, child," I said quietly. "Why are you following me?"

The child reluctantly said in a high pitched voice, "The prince back at the square gave me a KC to follow you."

My jaw dropped slightly. Of course he had. "Well you may tell him, young man, that I want nothing to do with him." I placed a rich pastry in his hand and walked down the path to our front door. The poor child looked like he had never eaten anything better than rock-hard bread before then.

I turned the doorknob and entered the kitchen. Mildred was standing there, looking furious, which was usual for her.

"Did you just hand that little streetrat one of my pastries?" she demanded, holding a ladel in her hand. She looked menacing.

"Yes, I'm sorry," I said quietly, staring at the floor.

"That means no lunch or dinner for you. Go feed the chickens, Zoi." She turned to the stove and stirred a pot of who-knows-what while I walked through the kitchen, into the den, and out the back door. That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I picked up a pail of chicken feed by the backdoor and looked out at the small yard. It had enough room for chickens, some pigs, a wee barn that was more like a shed, and a small space for Mary and Betsy to play.

The chickens were pecking at each other when I approached them. I pulled a fistfull of feed out of the pail and spread it across the ground. They ceased and came rushing at the food, pecking away madly. I crossed to the other side and did the same thing. Half the chickens came my way.

"Zoi!" screeched Mildred horribly. "I'm taking Betsy, Mary, and Gracie to go calling! Feed the pigs and don't cause trouble!"

"All right!" I called back, dumping some more feed on the chickens. I placed the pail by the door again and heard Mildred leave. "Evil," I mumbled. I went into the shed and prepared some slop for them. I was supposed to take the leftover food from dinner every night and save it for slop. It took me about a quarter of an hour to mix it all together.

When I emerged from the barn, the prince was standing there, leaning on the fence and looking utterly wonderful. "Good afternoon," he said.

"Your highness!" I exclaimed, sweeping a clumsy curtsy.

"Have I not already told you to call me Sam?" he said, laughing. He looked into the pail I was holding. "Ah, I see you are feeding the pigs. May I assist you?" Without waiting for reply, he took it from me and dumped it into the pig pen.

"Your highness," I said, "I mean Sam, you shouldn't be here!"

"And why not?" he asked, handing the pail back to me. "I have every right to, do I not?"

"No, it's just that if Mildred found out--"

"Oh, I just saw your mother leave with three little girls," he said, looking amused.

"She's not my mother!" I said, taken aback. "She is my aunt. She brought me up when my mother died." I looked at the dirty pail in my hands. "She has thrown a rotten apple at you before," I said quietly.

"Oh was that her?" he said, laughing. "I must admit, she is the only one that has ever thrown an apple at me." Looking at my face, he grew quiet. "What happened to your mother?"

"She died of childbirth," I said sadly, "with me."

"I'm sorry," said Sam. There was a silence, then, "How old are you?"

"Nearly fifteen," I replied, trying to lighten things up.

"Ah!" exclaimed the prince. "I am Seventeen, myself."

I then realized that I was having a conversation with my dearest enemy. "May I ask you to leave?" I said quietly to him.

"May I ask if I can stay?" he replied swiftly.

"Please, Sam," I said firmly. "Leave."

He looked sadly at me and left.

That night I wrote the following in my diary:

Dear diary,

Today Prince Samuel came to me and would not leave. I hate him, and he would not leave. I think I hate him. I mean, of course I do, but why was I thinking such things like how wonderful he looks and how nice he is? Oh well. I will never see him again, that's guarenteed. I will never go to the palace, and he will never come here. He probably dislikes me enough now.

When Mildred came home, she asked me if the prince had been here. I asked her why she thought that and she said that it was because she had seen him walking in the opposite direction than her, close to our house. Of course I said no. If I had said yes I would have been beaten half to death.

Gracie was extremely annoying today. The reason: the king and queen are holding another ball, and now she is old enough to go. I go every time, but only because Mildred forces me to. She says that if I don't go, the neighbors will think that something has happened to me. Neither I nor Gracie are allowed to get close to the royal family, but we must watch them closely and report everything they do back to Mildred.

This time I really do not want to go. Prince Sampson will see me and begin to talk to me again. Ugh. Goodnight, diary.

*****

poo. poo poo poo.

i hope that was longer and better and yah. just gooder (is that a word?) in general!! any comments? questions? review!!!!

have a good day.