His brothers didn’t listen. Ralph knelt and poured dirt from his left hand into his right. Burt poured dirt from his right hand into his left. Cinderellis got down on his knees too. Although he didn’t see what good it would do, he poured dirt from his left hand into his right. Then he poured it from his right hand into his left.
Ralph said, “Get up, Cinderellis. Don’t be such a copycat.”
Cinderellis stood, feeling silly. And lonelier than ever.
Three
During the winter after the hay disappeared, King Humphrey III returned. He hadn’t found the well of youth and happiness, but he’d brought home a flask of coconut milk that was supposed to be just as good.
The milk didn’t make anyone a day younger or a smile happier, though. All it did was make people’s toenails grow, a foot an hour. This kept the Chief Royal Manicurist busy for a week, till the effects wore off.
Marigold waited for her turn with the manicurist in the throne room with her father and all the nobles who’d had a sip of the milk. Everyone’s boots and hose were off, and the smell made Apricot sneeze on his cushion next to Marigold’s chair.
Marigold didn’t mind the smell. She was too happy about seeing her father to mind anything—until he mentioned that he was planning a new quest, this time for a pair of seven-league boots.
Marigold would have left the room, if she had been able to walk with three-foot-long toenails. As it was, everybody saw her cry.
A year to the day after the hay vanished, Cinderellis’ farmhouse shook again in the middle of the night. In the morning the hay was gone again from the same field, and Cinderellis picked up another horse hair, a copper one.
Every night for the next year, Ralph practiced a spell to scare away the goblins.
Goblins, go away NOW!
Go go go go GO!
Away away away away AWAY!
Now now now now NOW!
“The words are hard to remember,” Ralph said.
Burt agreed. “Almost impossible.”
Even though he knew that goblins had nothing to do with the disappearing hay, Cinderellis wanted to help. So he invented goblin-stay-away powder. It was made of dried vinegar and the claw of a dead eagle, the two things goblins fear most.
The first day of fall came. At night Ralph headed for the barn, which was right behind the hay field. He’d wait there for the goblins and say the spell.
“Let me come along,” Cinderellis said. “I’ll bring my goblin-stay-away powder.”
“Don’t need you,” Ralph said. He smiled his special smile at Burt.
Burt smiled back. “What good would you be?” he asked.
In the middle of the night Cinderellis was still awake, because he was having imaginary conversations with his brothers, conversations in which they were amazed at how wonderful his inventions were. Conversations in which they begged him to be their friend.
At midnight the ground shook. Cinderellis smiled. Now Ralph would see that he, Cinderellis, had been right all along. Now Ralph would see the horse.
The next morning Ralph was already eating his oatmeal when Burt and Cinderellis sat down for breakfast.
“Hay all right?” Burt asked.
Ralph shook his head. “Rain today.”
“Have to get the corn in,” Burt said. “What happened?”
“Ground shook. Said the spell. Went to sleep. Hay was gone.”
“Did you see the horse?” Cinderellis asked.
“What horse?”
“Didn’t you look outside the barn?”
Ralph smiled at Burt. “What for?”
Burt guffawed.
Later that day Cinderellis found a silver horse’s hair in the hay field.
The following year it was Burt’s turn to spend the night in the barn. In the morning the hay was gone.
“My turn next,” Cinderellis said, picking up a golden horse hair from the bare field.
Ralph and Burt roared with laughter.
“My turn next,” Cinderellis insisted, turning red. He’d save the hay. His brothers would admire him at last. And he’d never be lonely again.
A month after Burt’s night in the barn, King Humphrey III returned to Biddle without finding seven-league boots. What he had found were three shoes that walked backward, very slowly. They went straight to the Royal Museum of Quest Souvenirs.
Marigold asked her father when he would go off on his next quest. He said he was leaving in three days to find the lark whose song is sweeter than harp music.
Marigold nodded sadly and went to her bedchamber, where she patted Apricot’s head and thought gloomy thoughts. Apricot closed his eyes, glad that his dear lass was happy.
Cats are so loyal, Marigold thought, swallowing her tears. They never go off on quests. They never leave you alone and lonely.
Four
Cinderellis spent day after day in his workshop cave, getting ready for the horse’s arrival. He needed something to keep it from grazing, so he invented horse treats. They were made of oats and molasses and a few other ingredients to make the treats particularly scrumptious to horses—ground horse chestnuts, minced horse mackerel, and chopped horse nettles.
And since horses are partial to apples, Cinderellis made the treats apple shaped. He tried them out on Thelma and she liked them, even though she was a mule. Horses would adore them.
After he’d perfected the treats, Cinderellis turned one of his caves into a stable—an unusual stable, where the water trough refilled itself from a rain barrel outside the cave, where the rock floor had been softened by fluffy powder, and where there were paintings of subjects that horses like. Cinderellis had done the paintings himself. One was a close-up of three blades of spring grass. Another was of the ground as it would look to a galloping horse. And the last was of trees as they’d look to a cantering horse.
It was a lot of effort for just one night—because after that Ralph and Burt would probably keep the horse in the barn with Thelma. But Cinderellis didn’t mind. It would be worth everything if he could be friends with his brothers. A little extra work didn’t matter compared to that.
In the middle of the summer King Humphrey III returned from his quest. But instead of the lark that sings more sweetly than a harp, he brought home a mule whose bray drowns out an orchestra.
A week later, the king left on a quest for the goose that lays golden eggs.
Marigold noticed that the other castle children were laughing at the latest quest souvenir. Whenever she and Apricot approached a group of them, they’d be braying as hard as they could. When they saw her, they’d run away, giggling.
Marigold wished she could be a part of their group and laugh along with them. The king’s souvenirs were funny. They would make her laugh too, if she had someone to laugh with.
Late at night after the first day of fall, Cinderellis snuck out to the barn with a bucket of horse treats. A little before midnight he heard distant hoofbeats. He opened the barn door a crack. The grass was still there.
The hoofbeats grew louder. The floorboards hummed. The hoofbeats grew even louder. The rafters hummed along with the floorboards. Cinderellis’ hands shook and his teeth rattled.
Then the shaking stopped. A copper-colored mare stepped into the field. She was the biggest, most beautiful horse Cinderellis had ever seen. Across her back lay a knight in copper armor.
This was a surprise. Cinderellis hadn’t expected anyone to be on the horse.
The mare lowered her head and started to graze.
She mustn’t do that! Cinderellis thought. He grabbed the bucket of horse treats and left the barn.
The horse looked up and saw an ordinary farm lad, but she liked his face. He could rescue her from the evil magician who had put a spell on her and her two sisters. The lad only had to touch her bridle and she’d be safe. The spell would be broken, and she wouldn’t have to return to the magician ever again. She let the lad come right up to her. Touch the bridle, she thought. Touch the bridle.
He held ou
t the horse treats.
She sniffed the bucket. Mmm, pleasant. She put her head in the bucket and started to munch. Yum, delectable. And the treats were shaped like apples. Great combination!
Take the bridle, lad. Please!
Cinderellis grabbed the bridle. I’ve got you now, he thought.
Aah! The mare was so happy. She loved this lad. She would do anything for him.
“SHE WAS THE BIGGEST, MOST BEAUTIFUL HORSE CINDERELLIS HAD EVER SEEN. ACROSS HER BACK LAY A KNIGHT IN COPPER ARMOR.”
Cinderellis put the bucket down and tiptoed to the knight lying across the mare’s back. “Sir, are you all right?”
The knight didn’t move.
“Sir?” Cinderellis raised his voice. “Sir? Can you hear me?”
The knight didn’t answer.
Cinderellis tapped the metal. “Excuse me, sir. I hope you don’t mind . . .”
Nothing.
He tapped louder. It sounded hollow. He lifted the couter, which covered the knight’s elbow. It felt too light. If an arm were in there, it would be heavier. The knight was just an empty suit of armor! And he’d been talking to it!
Five
Cinderellis led the mare to the stable cave. Inside, he lifted the armor off his back and dumped it behind a mound of hay. He took her saddle and bridle off too. Then he began to brush her.
It felt sooo good. She whinnied softly.
What should he call her? He wanted a name that meant something.
He had it. Chasam. It stood for Copper Horse Arrives Shortly After Midnight. He picked up a handful of oats and fed it to her. “Good night, Chasam.”
In the morning Cinderellis led his brothers to the hay field.
“See,” he said. “I saved it.”
Burt said, “Goblin spell worked after all.” He smiled the special smile at Ralph.
It wasn’t the spell!
Ralph smiled back. He said, “Just took a while.”
“It wasn’t the spell,” Cinderellis hollered. “I did it!”
“Time to gather the hay,” Ralph said.
Cinderellis opened his mouth to tell them about Chasam and then shut it again. What if he told them and they still wouldn’t admit he’d done anything? What if they said a goblin had run away because of the spell, but his horse had stayed? That was probably what they would say! And once they saw Chasam, they’d keep her for themselves. They’d never let him have a turn riding her or plowing with her.
Well, he wasn’t telling them. Chasam would be his secret. He’d let them have next year’s horse—if they admitted that he had saved the field. He’d let them have all the horses if they’d be his friends. After all, friends don’t hold out on each other.
To get his mind off his brothers, Cinderellis spent the day with Chasam. He rode her, which was nothing like riding Thelma the mule, or even like riding the horses at the yearly fair in Snettering-on-Snoakes. Those horses weren’t as tall as Chasam was. So tall you were higher than anybody and felt more important too. And their gaits weren’t silken like hers. She hardly jiggled, even when she trotted. And her gallop was completely thrilling. The trees whizzed by, and the breeze that had ruffled Cinderellis’ hair when he started out—that breeze was miles behind. Why, he almost caught up to yesterday’s thunderstorm.
After an hour Cinderellis dismounted and started tossing horse treats to Chasam. He’d throw them, and she’d run after them and gobble them up. Sometimes she’d catch them before they landed. As time went on she became better and better, till she could catch almost anything he could throw.
It was fun, but he couldn’t spend every minute playing, so he stopped and got busy. His drying powder wasn’t quite right, and there had been a lot of rain lately. His lettuces were drowning.
He let Chasam graze while he did his experiments. He added ingredients that kept out water—ground umbrella, diced hood of a poncho, and pulverized roof shingle.
Chasam came over and watched.
At least someone’s interested in me and my inventions, Cinderellis thought. Even if it’s only a horse.
Two days before Marigold’s thirteenth birthday King Humphrey III returned from his latest quest, bringing with him the turkey that lays tin eggs.
A week later the king mounted his horse in the castle courtyard. He was leaving again, this time to search for the lamp that commands a genie. Marigold begged him not to go.
King Humphrey III reached down and stroked her forehead. “But sweetheart,” he said, “wouldn’t you like a genie who would make all your wishes come true?”
Apricot squirmed in Marigold’s arms. That horse’s head was bigger than his whole body. He wanted his dear lass to step away from the horse.
Marigold shrugged. Sure she’d like a genie, so she could wish for her father to stop going on quests. But if he’d just stop on his own, she wouldn’t need a genie. Besides, the king would never actually bring back a genie, so what was the point of wanting one?
Six
Late at night, a year after Chasam’s arrival, Cinderellis and the mare waited in the hay field. Cinderellis had a pail of horse treats with him. At a few minutes before midnight Chasam started neighing and running in circles.
At midnight the ground began to tremble. Cinderellis’ hands shook. The earth shimmied and lurched. Cinderellis’ teeth rattled. The trees swayed and twisted. The hay field churned and pitched. Cinderellis’ stomach sloshed.
Then everything grew quiet. A silver mare stepped into the hay field. A suit of silver armor lay across her back. Cinderellis felt disloyal thinking it, but the silver horse was even more beautiful than Chasam. Bigger, stronger, and just a little prettier around her eyes.
Chasam galloped to the mare. They nuzzled. They raced together across the field. They reared up and batted each other playfully with their front hooves. Then, at last, they trotted to Cinderellis and stood by him, their sides heaving.
Cinderellis grabbed the silver mare’s bridle. The silver mare was overjoyed. She loved this farm lad and would do anything for him.
“Welcome, Shasam,” Cinderellis said. Shasam stood for Silver Horse Arrives Shortly After Midnight. He led her to the stable cave. Inside, he lifted off her armor and tossed it on top of the copper armor.
In the morning Cinderellis showed Ralph and Burt that the hay field was all right.
Ralph said, “Goblins didn’t come back.”
Burt said, “Good year for turnips.” He put his arm across Ralph’s shoulder. They walked to the barn, leaving Cinderellis standing by himself.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t going to give Shasam to his brothers either.
She was even more fun to ride than Chasam. Faster, smoother, mightier. She was better at catching horse treats too. But Cinderellis didn’t want to hurt Chasam’s feelings, so he pretended he never noticed the difference.
The following June King Humphrey III returned home. Instead of finding the lamp that commands a genie, he had stumbled over the candle that rouses an imp. The imp was so angry about being bothered that he put a curse on the king—King Humphrey III had to go home and stay there. No quests for five whole years.
The king was heartbroken. His next quest was going to be the most important one ever. Marigold was old enough to get married, and he’d planned to find the perfect lad for her. And now he couldn’t.
Marigold was sorry her father was unhappy, but she was delighted that he was going to stay home. She was also delighted that he couldn’t search for her husband. It would be awful to have to marry something he brought back from a quest.
Apricot noticed the king weeping, and he worried that his dear lass might be sad too.
The day after he returned, King Humphrey III sat in the throne room and tried to listen to his Royal Councillors, but he couldn’t concentrate. Without a quest, how was he going to find the right husband for his darling daughter?
Then he had a brilliant thought. If he couldn’t go searching for the right lad, he’d make lots of lads come to him!
But how would he know which one was perfect? Hmm. He began to have an idea.
Exactly a year after Shasam’s arrival, Chasam, Shasam, and Cinderellis waited in the hay meadow for Ghasam (Golden Horse Arrives Shortly After Midnight).
Half an hour before midnight, the wind picked up. Cinderellis felt a tremor. And another. The wind howled.
Midnight came. The ground rocked and bucked. The wind went wild, blowing from every direction. A tree was uprooted and sailed away into the east. Cinderellis’ hands shook, his teeth rattled, and his stomach sloshed.
The world went black. The moon had gone out! The stars had gone out! Cinderellis’ heart bounced up and down.
Then the wind stopped. The ground steadied. The moon and stars reappeared.
A golden horse stepped into the hay field. A suit of golden armor lay across her back. Cinderellis gasped. She was gorgeous. You looked at her, and you heard trumpets playing and cymbals crashing.
Chasam and Shasam nickered. They cantered to their sister and nuzzled her. Then all three galloped joyously around the hay field, legs flying, necks stretched out, their manes and tails streaming.
Finally they stopped, and Ghasam trotted to Cinderellis. She whinnied as he took her bridle. She loved this farm lad already. She’d do anything for him.
The next morning Cinderellis told Burt and Ralph that the hay would never disappear again. He held his breath and waited. If they thanked him and smiled the special smile at him, then they could have Ghasam.
Ralph said, “Wet weather coming.”
Burt said, “Maybe some hail.”
Cinderellis breathed out. Nothing had changed. So he’d keep the horses, and he’d have three loyal and true animal friends. Who needed human friends anyway?
Seven
Ghasam was better than her sisters at catching horse treats. And she was faster than they were too. Once, when Cinderellis jumped on her back, he started to sneeze. “A—” he said. She took off. He finished the sneeze. “Choo!” They had gone two miles.