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said.
    â€œSounds about right,” Ray agreed. “So, Vicky, you’re with Jamie, and I’ll take Andrew with me.”
    R AY HAD EVERYTHING already set up and we quickly settled into the canoes. My grandmother came down tosay goodbye, and when she heard me call the Princess “Victoria” her mouth dropped open so wide I thought her jaw was going to hit the ground. Just for kicks I called her that a couple more times and added an “Andrew.”
    We headed off to the east—the way I’d figured we’d go. Ray took the lead, I followed, and the two security guys came up last. It was pretty clear pretty fast that there were really only two of us that knew what we were doing. Ray wasn’t setting any speed records, and it was easy for me to stay right with him. Albert and Nigel struggled to keep up. They both looked like they were plenty strong, but neither really had much technique going for them.
    From my perch at the stern of the canoe the biggest part of my view was the back of the Princess. She was working very hard, digging in the paddle and trying to hold up her end. It looked like she knew the way she was supposed to paddle but wasn’t very good at doing what she was supposed to do. We moved along with almost no conversation. It would have been nice to talk a little. On her part, most of her breath was going toward working the paddle. For me, I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know that many girls, and I really didn’t know that many girls my age. Especially ones who weren’t related to me. Besides, what do you talk to a princess about? Should I ask what TV shows she watched or how she liked school—did she even go to school? Probably she just did princess things. Things like going to fancy parties, or riding around in carriages, or having people do her hair, or maybe having tea, or playing polo. Polo looked like it might be fun. Not that I’d ever been on a horse, but I’d seen them a couple of times.
    â€œYou are very lucky,” she said, turning around.
    I felt embarrassed because I’d been looking right at her when she turned. But where else was I supposed to be looking?
    â€œLucky?”
    â€œYou get to live up here all the time.”
    â€œI guess that’s lucky.”
    â€œIt is. To have so much space and so few people would be such a joyous circumstance.”
    â€œUm … sure.” She sure did talk funny. It wasn’t just the accent, but the strange way she put words together— joyous circumstance —what the heck did she mean by that? Was she trying to sound fun, or cool, or good, or what?
    â€œMy father recalls his trip here as one of the very best times of his life,” she continued. “Getting away from everything and everybody and all the expectations and responsibilities.”
    â€œResponsibilities?” I asked.
    â€œHundreds and hundreds of them. Our time is so scheduled that we hardly have a moment for ourselves. It isn’t like I spend all my time going to parties and playing polo.”
    For a split second I was taken aback. Thank goodness I hadn’t said any of the things I’d been thinking.
    â€œAnd at every event I must meet with people. Sometimes literally hundreds of people. And even if I am not directly meeting with these individuals, there are still hundreds or even thousands of people who are constantly observing me. At times I feel like I am some sort of exhibit at the zoo.”
    â€œThat would be different,” I said.
    â€œIt would be different for me to be in a position where my every comment, sneeze and gesture were not seen, photographed, interpreted and then written up in newspapers around the globe! Do you have any idea how unsettling that becomes? I’m constantly being observed. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œNot the written-about or taking-pictures part, but I understand