DISCLAIMER: This licence isn't mine. The opinions express by the characters are not mine. I do not support nor encourage the illegal acts or words present here. I can make a distinction between fiction and reality and I trust in my readership's ability to do the same.

Chapter 50: Wedding and Ending, part 2: Preparations

Lemon Meringue was no longer a hairdresser nor a beautician in Strawberryland; who would need these skills? Either its inhabitants were bald, like the Berrykins or the insects; or their heads were covered with the same fur that covered the rest of their bodies, like the animals. The only other hobby she had improved, and which she had forgotten a little when she was in Big Apple City, was painting and drawing. It could always be useful. During the afternoon, she gathered sheets of paper, paintbrush and watercolor, and she taught the baby Berrykins how to draw. Well, let's say she tried to, because they all found much more entertaining to spread paint everywhere, except on the areas they were supposed to do it (that is to say their sheets). When they were not testing the range of tube of gouache paint, they embark upon a merciless fencing match with brushes instead of foils (brushes freshly soaked in paint, I mean), where the colored stains on their opponents' bodies stood for war wounds. These lessons were supposed to let Berrykin Bonnie, their regular teacher, have some hours of spare time; but, honestly, I wonder if it was a good move; because, at the end of the class, it was hardly possible to distinguish the original coloring of the babies' skins under the coat of paint that covered them. Then, Berrykin Bonnie had to take all of them to the orchard, where she rinsed them, in bulk, with the garden horse. The babies Berrykin chuckled and jumped through the jet of water and rolled around in the mud, and Berrykin Bonnie had to start over again. This operation was at least in half as long as the class in itself; but when everything was finally over, the babies made Lemon Meringue swear she would give them another lesson too, and she simply could not say no. At the beginning, Lemon had tried to show her authority, and to prevent these excesses that turn what was supposed to be a peaceful activity into a true gang warfare; but she was so helpless, knowing that a group of babies was dying in blue a whole strawberry plant while she was soothing another one, that she simply gave it up after a couple of lessons, and made herself happy by checking the children were not choking themselves by stuffing their brushes into their mouths. Sometimes, more occasionally, Berrykin Bill asked her to restore public buildings. Thanks to her height, it would be much quicker with her than if he asked his crew to do this job. He could not tell the difference between a painter, that Lemon Meringue aimed to be; and a construction painter, something he was. But it didn't disturb Lemon: once more, she felt like she was really an integral part of Strawberryland.

Strawberry Shortcake was certainly not thinking about Lemon Meringue's area of competence this morning, when she was joyfully gamboling in the direction of the Berry Work. She was filled with a joy she had not felt since years – since Apple Dumplin' disappearance, to be more precise, like if a big, black, stormy cloud lingering above her head had finally vanished and let the sun warm her. Yes, she could notice again the presence of the sun, and, as far as she can see, the sun was smiling upon her. The Berrykins on her road greeted her with a "Hello!" when she passed next to them, and she greeted them with the same enthusiasm. Strawberry was so filled with joy that she felt like she would explode, and thought that the happiness permeating her was so intense, so pure, that everyone deserved to experience it, at least once in a lifetime; and she was the one who would spread it, assigning its fragments to the lucky ones who would come across her.

As she had planned, the Princess Berrykin was at the Berry Work, supervising the workers… who stopped everything they were doing as soon as Strawberry approached to bounce around her, hoping she had come to give them cookies.

-Good morning Your Majesty, she said, shaking hands with the Berrykins who were the closest to her.

-Good morning miss Shortcake, said the Princess Berrykin. She had though in the first place to send the workers back at their posts; but Strawberry Shortcake was so happy that she forgot that, so eager she was to hear the reason for which the young girl had visited them. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Strawberry chuckled. The thing she had to announce was so incredible to her, so wonderful, that she did not know which words she had to use to forward the range of emotions she had been through. How could she express them without sounding artificial, overblown, or childish?

-Did you invent a new kind of cake? A Berrykin asked.

-Are you going in holidays? Another one added.

-No, Strawberry giggled. "No, this is much better than that."

Strawberry granted her some more minutes to mull over her announcement, but, being unable to find the spirited wording she was searching, she simply said to the contemplative and colored crowd at her feet:

-Peanut Butter proposed to me.

-What did he propose you to do? The first Berrykin asked.

-He proposed to marry me, Strawberry smiled. "Your Majesty, I needed to tell you that it would be a great joy to me if we could have a ceremony in Strawberryland. Even if your authority is not legally accepted in human legislation, I really would like to be united to my sweetheart in this place where I grew up."

The second part of her sentence was hard to hear due to the Berrykins' cheers. They did not know what "marry" means, but they could see for sure it makes Strawberry happy, and that was enough for making them cheerful, too. The Princess Berrykin, sharing the general joy, promised she would organize the greatest party Strawberryland had never seen for celebrating a such occasion.

But, in fact, she didn't dare to admit she hadn't the slightest idea of what a wedding was supposed to be.

The very night, when Berrykin Bloom walked the little princesses back at their castle, the guards informed him that the Princess Berrykin wanted to have an audience with him. Berrykin Bloom obediently followed them, wondering what was the thing the Princess needed to tell him in secret, hidden behind her castle's walls. The young princesses were rather excited: this kind of events often happened when their mother had to attempt a royal colloquium in a neighbor kingdom; for them, it usually meant that Berrykin Bloom would spend even more time with them, at the castle. The latter, for his side, was more preoccupied: when the Princess wanted to talk to him in private, she used to meet him in the orchard, and to move away from the other Berrykins who could hear them. This time, the Princess obviously wanted their conversation to stay secret. Why? What was this thing he was the only one to be able to hear? Was Strawberryland crossing an economic crisis? Were they threatened by their neighbors? Was a civil war likely to break out? The most disturbing thing was it was so… sudden. He hadn't noticed any change, nor any worry in the Princess' attitude lately. A revelation must have stroke her. What if… what if she wanted to see him in private because what she had to say directly concerned him and his reputation? What if he had done something that had displeased her? What if she simply found him too old for assuming his functions and wanted to force him to go into retirement? What if she wanted to keep this conversation secret only to preserve his own credibility from the public opinion?

Berrykin Bloom's questioning ceased when the guards stopped in front of a massive double door, the entrance of the Princess' audience room. One of the guards knocked at the door and majestically announced Berrykin Bloom's arrival; and, from the bottom of the room, the Princess's voice invited him to come in. Both guards withdrawn, letting the old gardener, respectfully taking off his frayed hat, facing his fate.

-Berrykin Bloom?

-Here I am, Your Majesty, he nervously said, curtseying.

-I am so glad to see you. I need to talk with you about a problem of a first importance.

-Whatever it will be, Your Majesty, I assure You I will do my best to deal with it.

-… Berrykin Bloom, what's the matter with you? You are white as a sheet, and I rarely saw you as anxious as you currently are.

-Your Majesty, I'm simply eager to help you.

-I knew I could rely on you. The problem is – and the Princess let a little sigh out – that miss Strawberry Shortcake has asked me this morning to planned a wedding party for her, but I'm not sure to know what it is.

Planning a party? That was the reason for which the Princess planned a secret council with him? Relief was so strong that Berrykin Bloom could hardly stand his new casualness, as if Mother Earth had relieved him of a burden he was dragging. His vision blurred, and his knees started to shiver.

-What's happening to you? The Princess asked, noticing his change of attitude. "Is my ignorance giving you a funny moment?"

-Your Majesty, since I have been in charge of your education, your ignorance is entirely due to me, and you already show a great magnanimity in not blaming me for it, Berrykin Bloom said, trying to regain consciousness and his composure.

-Well, I know you have rubbed shoulders with the humans for a long time. Could you tell me what a wedding is?

-A wedding is a human ceremony during which two persons swear an eternal love and loyalty to the other one. I've heard that, thanks to this ceremony, those two distinct individuals merge into a single identity, and that they put all their belongings in common.

-Hmm hmm, I see. But, in concrete terms, how does a wedding party look like?

Berrykin Bloom had to go over his oldest memories about human literature before answering that, as far as he could remember, the lady was supposed to wear a white dress, while the person steering the ceremony (it would be the Princess) solemnly announce them man and wife; but he would need to make some more research.

-We will all have to, the Princess gravely concluded. "Strawberry Shortcake has been Strawberryland's cornerstone since her birth. If she has to leave us, something she will probably do, I want at least her to remember us during a last party, celebrating her new start in life instead of crying about what's gone and will never be the same again. I want all of us to give them, Strawberry Shortcake as a dower, and both of them as a wedding present, joy, hope and optimism which would accompany them wherever they would go, printed forever in their minds."

Berrykin Bloom nodded.

-This is very wise of you, Your Majesty, he said.

Strawberry Shortcake's and Peanut Butter was aimed to be the biggest event of the year. Everyone wanted to join in, in order to show the young couple their friendship, affection and loyalty. Orange Blossom ordered confetti, garlands, table runners and everything else they would need to transform Strawberryland into the most beautiful ballroom ever. Sweet and Sour Grape, who had learnt about the pending event, saw the menus and the wedding cake. Berrykin Bonnie considered to put on a choir with her students; but she quickly realized that simply gathering them on a stage was an exploit. Anyway, she then remembered that Plum Pudding and her ballet had planned to perform a dance show, which music would be ensured by Cherry Jam and her music academy. Huckleberry Pie, Blueberry Muffin ad Blueberry Pie designed and created the announcements. Lemon Meringue had no troubles in finding how to make her contribution: she would do the happy couple's hairstyle on the D-Day.

The Princess Berrykin, who would lead the whole ceremony, was the one who was throwing herself into her responsibilities the most wholeheartedly. She and Berrykin Bloom, after their regular hours of works, often came to the Orange Mart, in secret, to browse books or blogs about wedding planning, under Orange Blossom's conniving eyes; sometimes each by turn, sometimes both in the same time. The twin princesses used to comment everything they said. When they were together, they were both bending over the same page or the same paragraph. The Princess Berrykin knew, of course, how to read; but she did not give herself over quite often to this kind of exercise, and she regularly stumble over long, complex or unknown words. Berrykin Bloom, studiously taking notes during this time, was more experienced in this activity, but the brightness of a computer screen or the ill-adapted size of human print characters tired him quickly, and, judging by the way he had to rob his old eyes, Orange Blossom understood that the letters started to be as hard to decipher as Classical Greek for him. If the Princess was not able to take over, Orange slipped behind them and, pretending to need to read what they were studying, read out loud the lacking passage. Berrykin Bloom was not fooled by this act, and thanked her with a grateful smile. But Berrykin Bloom's tribulations had at least one positive aspect: in her thirst to help him studying the art of planning weddings, the Princess Berrykin quickly improved her reading skills, that years of idleness had left to lay by; and, in a matter of a few weeks, she could read quite decently.

Strawberry Shortcake and Peanut Butter wanted to help, but the Strawberrylanders declined en bloc: it wouldn't be their party if they had to take care of everything; the best thing they could do would be to relax and rely on them.

But there was still a point that stayed unclear, a big problem my wise readership would have noticed: Who would take care of the dress?

-Raspberry Torte, of course, Plum Pudding casually said, making her stretching exercises. "She did it so many times before, she certainly knows Strawberry's shapes by heart."

-Because you think Raspberry Torte still remember the bunch of country bumpkin we are? Lemon Meringue ironically asked, a bit bitterly. "She must be too occupied now, talking haute couture with all her new friends from town."

-So, who will? Plum Pudding asked.

-We can do it! All the Berrykins cried. Of course, they had no idea of how one was supposed to sew a wedding dress, but they thought that their good will would certainly bring them to a successful conclusion (and, most of the time, they weren't wrong).

-I'm afraid we won't have the time to let you do so, Huckleberry Pie said. "You're much too small…"

-I can order it, Orange Blossom purposed.

-Why not? Lemon Meringue asked.

-No, Blueberry Muffin firmly said. "A ready-to wear dress would be too impersonal for our Strawberry Shortcake, who is everything except impersonal. This dress, we will do it all together. Maybe it won't be perfect, but it will be unique, just as Strawberry is for us."

Honestly, designing a wedding gown was a gargantuan task. Everyone wanted it to be sumptuous and gorgeous, but even the definitions of these concepts stayed problematic. Lemon Meringue could not imagine a dress without a crinoline and Orange Blossom kept finding buttons, lace and ribbons which would look marvelous on Strawberry Shortcake's outfit; while Plum Pudding and Huckleberry Pie maintained that the most important thing was to let her dance and have fun during her party.

Anyway, how were they supposed to do it? Blueberry Muffin's advice was to sew an unadorned dress, by following the pattern to the letter, and only then they would let their creativity run wild. In theory, it was a good idea, but they all became disillusioned when they discovered what a pattern really was. All its unintelligible jargon, all its abstract figures on the paper, could be everything except the dress they were imagining. They had to admit that fashion design, the kind Raspberry Torte did, was much more than picking fabrics and tying ribbons.

-It looked so easy when Raspberry was doing it… Orange Blossom muttered, as she was trying to fold a fabric rectangle to make it look like a skirt. "It was as if the clothes were taking shape all by themselves…"

Finally, as the wedding party was approaching, the girls had no other choices than buying a ready-to-wear dress.

-What do you think of it? Orange Blossom asked, trying to sound cheerful and confident, while she was presenting the plain white skater dress she had just received in front of all of her friends, who had been summoned in the Orange Mart for the occasion.

An embarrassed silence followed her question. The dress was so neutral that it had nothing to do with a dressing gown. The only positive point was that, at least, Strawberry Shortcake couldn't show lack of taste by wearing it.

-I don't really like it, Plum Pudding admitted.

-I think it's a bit too… white, Lemon Meringue said, thoughtfully.

-But wedding gowns must be white, mustn't them? Huckleberry Pie noticed.

-Not that white, Blueberry Muffin replied. "It looks like a blank sheet of paper!"

-I don't really like it, neither, Blueberry Pie mumbled, petting her rabbit.

Orange Blossom was about to lose all her hope, when she remembered the stock of ribbons, flounces and buttons she had left in her Mart. Maybe…

It was a great idea. The sad, white dress was displayed in a coat-hanger, in the middle of the Mart, and everyone (even the Berrykins) could embellish it the way they wanted. Orange Blossom added orange ribbons on the collar, Lemon Meringue picked a yellow belt that would look wonderful, according to her, Blueberry Muffin and Huckleberry Pie did their best for sewing decorative blue buttons on the bodice and Blueberry Pie… Sitting on the floor, she had grabbed a marker pen and studiously calligraphed the following message on the bottom on the skirt: "We love you strobery", accompanied by a little picture representing two big figures, a smaller one and a last one with whiskers and small ears, on its head.

-Blueberry Pie! What have you done?! Lemon Meringue cried, when she saw Little Blueberry's work.

Blueberry Muffin immediately pulled the pen out of her daughter's hand, while Huckleberry Pie apologized profusely. Little Blueberry, by her side, started to quietly cry under her mother's reproaches. She only wanted to show Strawberry Shortcake how much she appreciated her, but now everyone believed she was a bad girl…

-I may say something silly, a Berrykin said, "But I think it's quite nice."

-He's right, Plum Pudding added.

-Hey Orange! Lemon Meringue cried. "Do you still have button and fabric in stock? I have a new idea. Let's all imitate Little Blue! We'll make all our portrait on this dress."

-Even better than photography! Huckleberry Pie said.

It took them a few day for try their hardest to sew their self-portraits on the dress' skirt, using big buttons for the heads and bodies, smaller pearls for the limbs, and offcut for the outfits; to choose the correct materials, and, the most important of everything, to learn how to share the available room on the dress. One day, when a discussion between Plum Pudding and Lemon Meringue had turn especially virulent, Huckleberry Pie made them notice, rightly, that even Little Blue was more mature than them.

To be continued…