That Tuesday, Anna and Kristoff were finishing breakfast when Elsa, who was reading the newspaper, made a small yelp. Anna asked, "Elsa? Is something the matter?"

Elsa's eyes flitted back and forth across the newspaper. She seemed not to have noticed Anna. As Elsa read and reread, she clenched her teeth and squeezed her hands with rage, crumpling the newspaper. With a shout she threw it down. "Of all the ignorant, intolerant things!" she cried.

Kristoff kept his eyes on his eggs. A reaction like this could only be about Elsa's equality law.

Anna asked, "What's wrong?"

Elsa tossed the newspaper to Anna. "Read the letter. Third column, halfway down."

Anna picked up the newspaper and read. "'The Queen's equality law is well-meaning but misguided'? That one?"

"Yes."

In fact the letter was Anna's. She had tried without success to convince Elsa that the equality law was an overreach. Desperate to change her sister's mind, Anna had written an anonymous letter to the Arendelle Messenger to stir up public opinion against the law. After pretending to skim her own letter, Anna asked, "What's wrong with it?".

"The end."

Anna read the end. "'The Queen's admirable thirst for equality has led her down an ill-considered path.' So?"

"Below that."

"'This correspondent wishes to remain anonymous'?"

"Exactly."

"What's wrong with an anonymous letter?"

"The letter is so violent and deranged that it could only have been written by a sick misogynist. But he's also a coward. He doesn't want us to know who he is because he doesn't want to face consequences for his vicious beliefs."

"The letter didn't sound vicious to me."

"Read it again and you'll see. It's dripping with hatred."

Kristoff moved his eggs from one side of his plate to the other. With Elsa as angry as she was, he didn't want her to notice him. Nor did he want to leave, however, because he didn't want to leave Anna alone to argue with Elsa. Anna had read him the letter before she sent it, and he recognized it.

Anna said, "I think it's written by a woman."

"Of course not," said Elsa.

"It sounds like a woman."

Kristoff said, "It's just an opinion. It doesn't do any lasting harm."

Elsa shook her head. "No, it could have reminded some poor woman of abuse she once endured. The newspaper ought to be a safe space. Triggering someone's painful memories is a nasty thing to do, and doing it anonymously is unacceptable." Elsa got up from the table. "But I know what to do about it."

When the middle-aged Simon Andersen, editor-in-chief of the Arendelle Messenger, arrived at the castle, he was taken to Elsa's study. The Queen sat behind her desk. There was a copy of the morning's newspaper in front of her. Andersen bowed and said, "Your Majesty, thank you for seeing me."

"Sit," Elsa directed.

Andersen sat across from Elsa. "I got your letter a hour ago, Ma'am. I was very surprised. We've never received a request like yours before."

"Are you going to tell me you don't know who sent it?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Andersen pulled the letter from out of his coat pocket and passed it to Elsa. "The letter doesn't say who wrote it, and there's no return address on the envelope."

Elsa studied the letter and the envelope. There were no identifying marks on either. The paper was fine but had no letterhead. The handwriting was familiar, as if the author had learned to write using the same copybooks as Elsa and Anna. It couldn't be Anna, of course, and besides, plenty of people wrote in that style.

Elsa set the letter down. "I see. I expect you to figure out who wrote it. When you do, print it."

Andersen's eyes went wide. "But Your Majesty! I thought you just wanted to know for yourself!"

"No, that's not what I had in mind. I wanted everyone to know."

Andersen could feel himself panicking. Letters to the editor were popular. He had thought the anonymous letter would attract attention and increase sales. It seemed to have worked, because morning edition sales had been brisk and the newspaper had already received several more anonymous letters. Printing the author's identity would ruin the newspaper's opportunity. "But why?"

"People deserve to know that this man holds such heinous opinions."

"Your Majesty, I believe the letter is from a woman." Andersen pointed at the writing. "Notice the loopy, flowing style. It's a feminine hand."

"Perhaps he was trying to disguise himself, but his hatred gives him away." Elsa motioned for Andersen to leave. "I expect to see a name and address in print by the day after tomorrow. And don't hide it in the corner. Make it prominent."

That same morning, Inga Andersen entered Soren Falk's butcher shop for the first time. She looked around the shop. Cuts of meat hung from the ceiling. A scale stood on the counter, and behind the counter were a pair of freestanding butcher's blocks. There was a door to the back of the shop, but it was closed. Nobody was around.

Inga rung the bell on the counter and continued looking through the meat hanging in the shop. After a moment, a red-faced, wide-mustached man wearing a bloody apron yanked open the door at the back of the shop. He said, "What?"

"Mr. Falk?" Inga asked. "I'd like to buy a cut of beef. A rib roast."

Falk grunted. "Which one?"

Inga looked around the shop again. "Excuse me, but I don't see any."

"Over there!" snarled Falk, pointing at a corner of the shop.

Inga went to the corner and began examining the roasts. One of them was juicy red but a little small. Another wasn't as red but had delightful marbling throughout. She examined a third roast, then a fourth.

Falk was still standing at the door. "Come on, I'm waiting."

Inga got flustered. "I'm looking," she said.

"Are you going to keep looking, or are you going to buy?"

"It's for a special occasion. My husband was made editor-in-chief of the Messenger, and we've just moved into a new house, and-"

"I don't care. Just pick."

Inga stopped looking at the beef. "Mr. Falk, I'm appalled! This is my first time in your shop, and you're trying to make it my last. I had heard you were the best butcher in the area, but if this is how you treat your customers then I shall go elsewhere."

"Suits me. If you know what you want, I'll take your money, but I'm not going to stand here all day for some woman."

"What! I'm a customer!"

"Then buy something already."

As Inga left the shop, she said, "I suppose the Queen is right. If this is how you treat women, Sir, then I pity your wife. Good day."

When Simon Andersen got home that evening, his wife was still angry at Falk. "That man is a barbarian!" she railed. "I thought he would be convenient since he's just down the street from us. And Mrs. Hummel did tell me that he had the best meat. I should have listened to her when she said he could be difficult!"

Simon nodded and pretended to listen. Half of his staff had wasted the day trying to discover the author of the anonymous letter, and they had failed. They would fail again tomorrow, too, he expected. At best, that would be the end of his month-old editorship. At worst, well, at least he didn't want more children.

Inga was still ranting. "I was a new customer. You'd think a shopkeeper would be excited for a new customer, would be generous to a new customer. But no, I'm just some woman!"

Simon started. "What was that, dear?"

"He called me, 'some woman'! And I was just furious, oh I could hardly contain myself!"

"'Some woman'? So he doesn't appreciate women?"

"Not at all! I wonder if he would have treated you the same way."

"Hmm," said Simon. "And you said he has a reputation for being difficult?"

"He has a terrible reputation! The man knows his meat, not his manners."

"Hmm," repeated Simon. "Hmm."

When Soren Falk opened the newspaper two days later, it left him speechless. At the top of the letters to the editor section was the brief statement, "At Her Majesty's personal request, we are publishing the identity of the author of the anonymous letter in Tuesday's edition. Soren Falk, 38 West Forest Street."

Falk couldn't understand it. He hadn't written to the Messenger. As stupid as he thought the equality law was, he knew better than to make himself a target for every do-gooder in the city. Yet there were his name and address in the newspaper, connected to thoughts he shared but words he didn't write.

Falk put down the newspaper and dashed off a letter. "Deer Editer, I didnt rite that letter. Why are you acusing me. I had nothing to do with it. Im just a butcher." He signed it, sealed the letter in an envelope, and left for the post office. Maybe it would make the afternoon edition.

The chief of police, Marius Leonardsen, didn't want to be in Elsa's study, but he couldn't think of an excuse to escape a direct summons from the queen. He had supposed it was because he hadn't been enforcing the equality law, and he had resigned himself to being given a quota. He wished he had been right.

"So you want me to target an innocent man?" Leonardsen asked again.

Elsa said, "You've read the letter. Falk's not innocent."

"He also denies that the letter is his. Ma'am, he came to us yesterday evening. He said that ever since his name and address got published, he's been getting death threats."

"People are angry at him for good reason. Nobody likes a criminal."

"We have no evidence that he's a criminal."

"Collect some, then. Do whatever's necessary."

"What would that be, Ma'am?"

Elsa glared at Leonardsen. He was being deliberately obtuse, as if she weren't already making herself clear. Maybe Leonardsen thought women were stupid. "If you can't figure that out, there's going to be a new police chief. Now get out."

That night Falk lay sleepless in his bed. Yesterday afternoon, a letter had threatened to kill him in his sleep. His denial made yesterday's evening edition, but today, a letter had threatened arson, and another one had said only, "You're a dead man." He had instructed his wife not to worry over the letters, but his voice had been hollow. He looked to his right. She was staring at the ceiling, as awake as he was.

There was a thump from downstairs. Falk held his breath to listen more closely. A crack and another thump. His wife grabbed his arm. "Soren," she whispered, "someone's here."

"Quiet, woman," Falk whispered. He threw the blanket aside. Grabbing a poker from the fireplace, he crept toward the bedroom door. There were footsteps outside. He raised the poker over his head.

The door crashed open and black-clad men poured through. Three men tackled Falk. "Police! Get on the ground, get on the ground!" they shouted. They slammed Falk to the ground and tore the poker from his hands. More men rushed through the door. "Hands in the air!" they shouted. As they dragged Falk's wife out of bed, she screamed.

"Get off me!" shouted Falk as he struggled against the policemen's grip.

"Stay on the ground!" shouted one of the policemen. As Falk tried to stand, the policeman drew his baton. He struck Falk on the chest, and Falk yelled. The policeman shouted, "I said stay down!" When Falk tried to stand again, the policeman smashed his baton over Falk's head, and Falk stopped moving.

When Falk woke up the next morning, he was in a jail cell. The jailer fetched a detective to question Falk. After the detective had confirmed Falk's identity, he inquired about Falk's business. "Do you have any employees, Mr. Falk?" asked the detective.

Falk didn't want to cooperate with the men who had beaten him, but he thought it was his only way out of jail. "Yes," he said.

"Tell me about them."

"There's a young man, Leif, seventeen. He cuts meat, makes sausage, takes deliveries, that sort of thing. And there's a boy, Jonas, about fourteen, who just started. He's learning to cure meat."

"Any others?"

"No."

"No women?"

Falk sucked in his breath. "Is that what this is about?"

"Just answer me."

Falk snickered. "You think I'm in violation of the equality law?"

"From what you've said so far, you are."

"I'm not stupid. As of last Tuesday, I'm legal."

"What?"

"There was an obnoxious woman. Said she was a new customer and wanted me to wait on her hand and foot. You know the type. When I wouldn't, she threatened me with the equality law and left." Falk grinned at the detective. "Check with the bank. We used their notary. The butcher shop is wholly owned by my wife."

Since the equality law didn't apply to Falk, he was let free the next day. The morning after, Falk's release made the front page of the newspaper. Elsa was furious. She summoned Chief Leonardsen to her study. "What do you think you're doing?" she yelled.

"Ma'am, we didn't find any evidence of a crime."

"He's a criminal!"

"But without evidence-"

Elsa slammed her fist on the table. "We're past needing evidence! Lock him up!"

"But why, Ma'am?"

Elsa stood, leaned over the table, and channeled her rage into her voice. "Either go fix it or drop your pants. You have ten seconds. One. Two."

Leonardsen was gone by four.

Anna felt guilty. Her letter had gotten an innocent man humiliated, threatened, and injured. As she walked through the castle, trying to reconcile her morality with her wish not to get in trouble with Elsa, she saw Leonardsen leave Elsa's study. With trepidation she said, "Good morning, Chief Leonardsen."

Leonardsen gave a brief nod. "Good morning, Your Highness," he said as he passed her, trotting down the hallway. A few steps past her, he said, "Wait. Pardon me, Your Highness, may I have a word with you?"

Dark guilt oozed over Anna. "Me? What do you mean?"

Leonardsen said, "Privately, if you please, Ma'am."

Anna led Leonardsen to the library. Her heart pounded as she asked, "What's the matter?"

"Your Highness, the Queen has asked me to do something unpleasant. I, well, let me say that I don't know her reasoning. Could you help me?"

"Tell me what you know."

Leonardsen felt hopeful. Perhaps the Crown Princess would be able to explain the Queen's reasoning, or, even better, to change the Queen's mind. "The Queen would like me to arrest Mr. Falk again. She says he's a criminal, and if I don't arrest him, she'll-well, you see, it's something I don't want her to do to me. But last time we arrested him we found no evidence of a crime. Which is why I need your help. I was hoping you could give me a reason why he's a criminal."

Anna shook her head. She wouldn't make up excuses to arrest Falk. Leonardsen would have to do that without her. "No, you'll have to reconcile it with your conscience on your own. Goodness knows I'm struggling with mine."

"I see. I'm sorry to bother you, Ma'am." Within days they had forgotten the conversation, never having discovered their miscommunication.

It wasn't raining, and it wasn't cold. Anna knew she would look ridiculous wearing a cloak that covered her head and left her face in shadow, but there was no other way for her to walk around town without being noticed. Arriving at Falk's butcher shop, she rang the bell on the counter once, twice, then a third time.

Falk yanked open the back door. "What?" he growled. "I heard you the first time."

"The Queen is going to have you arrested again," said Anna.

Falk laughed. "I'm already suing the police. They're going to be paying me money for years."

"You have to leave Arendelle! The police chief just visited the castle. She told him to arrest you again."

"More money for me. Serves the bitch right."

At Falk's insult, Anna's face became hot. "She is not a bitch!"

Falk's already red face turned purple, and he began to shout. "I didn't do anything to her! Nothing, not ever, and she tried to ruin my life! And for what? Because she thinks dumb cunts like her need special treatment!"

Falk's smothering hatred choked Anna's rebuke in her throat. Open-mouthed, she gaped at him. She had wanted to save him, and through him to save herself. At last she said, "I'm not helping you anymore," and left.

A few hours later, the police raided Falk's shop. Falk laughed all the way to prison. When his lawyer arrived, Falk learned that Elsa had issued a special edict condemning Falk and pardoning the police. The next day, Falk was led to the gallows, and Elsa froze his manhood off.

Simon Andersen was in the audience. He felt guilty until Falk began spewing obscenities against women.