Read Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair for Free Online Page B

back! I cannot believe it! His parents have determined he would get better training at becoming a “responsible adult worthy of marrying a princess” at our castle than their own. Mum says this is because there is no discipline at Elkin’s home and he was never taught things like:
Boys his age do not pass gas at the table just to get a laugh out of the younger children present (meaning Annabelle and me). For the record, I do not actually laugh when Elkin passes gas; I gag and it comes out as a laugh. Annabelle, I cannot vouch for.
Good grooming is important. It is not a joke to cut off all of one’s hair with the gardener’s shears before the eleventh birthday of your cousin (me again), thereby ruining the family portrait that the castle artisan had been painting all day.
Do not disobey other people’s fathers (especially whenthey are the king) and lure younger cousins (again, me) into trouble by hiding behind couches.
    The list goes on. I can see Mum’s point. Elkin truly is rough around the edges. Mum has given me the choice to attend Elkin’s training classes. Or, I should say, she has made it appear that she is giving me the choice, when we all know full well that no such choice exists. What she doesn’t know is that I would have asked to participate even if I had not been invited. Now that I have learned of the fifty (50!!) other Benjamins looking up to me, I realize that I, too, would benefit from some studies in Future Kingness. Our lessons begin tomorrow. I have practiced holding out my hand so that Andrew can kiss my (imaginary) ring, but he did not appreciate the gesture and I think he is a bit miffed at me.

I have thought of a way to escape! It is so obvious. All I have to do is pretend to be asleep when the witch comes with my next meal and watch how she is getting in and out. That’s even simpler than my old plan! Since I have had no food yet today, and she left none when she brought the oil lamp, I expect her arrival before nightfall. I am lying on my “bed” with my eyes mostly — but not totally — closed. Time is passing ridiculously slowly. My belly is grumbling. WHERE IS SHE?
    WHY IS MY HAIR GROWING SO FAST? What IS she putting in my food?? If I think too much about it, I shall surely go mad.
    What is that smell? Herrings? Warm bread? Surely I must be imagining it, because I did not close my eyes so there is no way the witch got by me. Then I hear a slurping sound. I quickly sit up to find Sir Kitty sipping from a bowl of goat’s milk on a tray next to BOILED HERRINGS AND STEAMING BLACK BREAD! I also notice that I have tosquint to see the food because the sun has nearly set! I cannot BELIEVE I fell asleep! I am the worst spy ever!
    I hurry to the table and join Sir Kitty in our evening meal. How could the witch be so cruel to me when I see her and then be kind enough to leave a bowl of milk for the cat? There is more here than meets the eye. I am going to figure it out.
    After all, what else have I got to do?
    Â 
    NEXT MORNING, 9 TH OF AUGUSTUS
    I quickly fall asleep again, and wake to find the sunlight streaming in the window and the witch STANDING OVER MY BED waving my birthday dress in one hand and my fallen shoe in the other. Her face is purple with rage. This can’t be good. I scramble to my feet and instinctively back away. I guess this isn’t the best time to thank her for the lamp and the bowl of milk. She holds up the items and waves them at me.
    â€œWould you care to offer an explanation for why I found these in the bushes?” she asks through gritted teeth.
    I hurry to explain that the dress must have slipped from the window hinge as it was airing out. The shoe is harder to explain. “Er, I thought I saw a dragon last night and I threw my shoe at it?” Okay, so I’m not the world’s best liar.
    She stares into my eyes with her beady black ones, and I force myself not to look away. Father always says, if