The sight of steam billowing from the nose of a tea kettle puts the world back at rights. The whistle calls for a nice sit down with close friends, warm tea in dainty china teacups, and a light snack in the parlor with the drapes open, embracing the sunshine of the day.
Good morning ladies, Tea?
The parlor couches hadn't seen the light of day in over nineteen years.
Lovely day, isn't it? Such nice weather.
The only whistling the castle heard came from the wind, or from Lumiere, occasionally finding enough spirit to flirt with the castle girls when the Master wasn't around.
And how is your son doing Mrs. Potts?
But tea was tea no matter where you drank it, just like mothers were mothers no matter where you found them. Mrs. Potts was always busy, always had a job to do, and being a teapot didn't change that one bit. There were dishes to clean, servants to keep occupied, spirits to lift, a Master to keep in line, and a son to chase after. Like the object she embodied, Mrs. Potts only whistled under pressure, and offered comfort in a warm drink to the weary.
Oh, waht a wonderful hat you're wearing Mrs. Jenkins! Do tell me where you bought it!
No teapot ever had a more tiring life.
And if the steam runs out, then where will she be?
In the parlor no doubt, embracing the light of hope wherever she could find it.
Have a cup of tea now dear, and whistle all your troubles away.
There. Much better than the last chapter, which I still may rewrite.
This was a good chapter for me to write, got me right back into the swing of things. So much so, that I wrote a second chapter as well : ) But we're going to save that one for later. The last chapter, in fact. I'll think my readers will find it very special.
Standard disclaimer for all material. Standard excuse for the long wait. Standard request for reveiws. ^^
