‘There’s no such thing as the Gypsy King!’ she laughed. ‘I don’t need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help!’
And off she went to raid the kitchens for her favourite cakes – marzipan disobediences. She didn’t like how they tasted, she just liked
the name. Princess Snowflake stuffed herself
silly with marzipan disobedience cakes, and off she ran to explore the gardens once more.
When Princess Snowflake was seven years old, another of the kindly old witches took her aside.
‘Child,’ said the kindly old witch. ‘You know the –’
But Princess Snowflake only clapped her hands together, one, two, three!
‘Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,’ she said. ‘King of the Pixies or something, nasty
36
bloke, don’t go near him, blah blah blah. I don’t
need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help!’
And off she ran to explore the gardens, slipping on the icy floor and almost colliding with a little hedgehog called Chomley.
With each passing year Princess Snowflake grew more reckless, wandering further and further into the gardens to explore. The witches despaired, but there was nothing to be done and in the end, they gave up even trying to keep her indoors. ‘For she has a mind of her own, that girl,’ said one. ‘Which is fine, it’s just that sometimes it’s quite an annoying mind.’
One day shortly after her eleventh birthday, Princess Snowflake was exploring a part of the gardens she hadn’t been in before, her faithful spaniel, Gooseberry, at her side. Merrily she skipped along, scoffing her marzipan
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disobediences, Chomley the hedgehog racing
after her to guzzle up the scraps.
Oh, how beautiful the gardens were! Waxy
green holly bushes lined the pathways, so that it
always felt like Christmas. Thick pines and fir trees
rose all around, like something from a picture
book, and the flowerbeds were bursting with
every sort of winter plant and herb imaginable:
snowdrops and white pansies; snapdragons and
turkeybane; Shoveller’s Delight and puff-puff-
mcguffs;inside-out Nigels, wizard-foot, beards of
Persia, frogleytumps, moth-whipper – and many
more besides. Everything sparkled with a layer of
diamond-dusty white, and the only sounds were
the crunching of the snow underfoot and the
soft breeze whispering in the branches.
At length, Princess Snowflake came to a
little wooden bench set back from the path,
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and there she sat herself down to watch the world go by. The witches had put up signs all around the bench, saying:
BEWARE THE GYPSY KING!
and
DANGER! THE GYPSY KING IS
KNOWN TO OPERATE IN THESE PARTS!
and
YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET NOT
READING THESE SIGNS ONE OF THESE
DAYS, YOUNG LADY, IN FACT I BET
YOU’RE NOT EVEN READING
THIS ONE RIGHT NOW, ARE YOU?
‘No, I’m not,’ said Princess Snowflake, which was true, because she wasn’t.
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Presently a deer bounded by with a big ‘D’
painted on its side. Then
another one with an
‘A’. Then another, with
an ‘N’. Then another,
with a ‘G’. Then
another, with an ‘E’. And then
one more, with an ‘R’ painted
on its side.
‘Oh, how
adorable,’ laughed Princess Snowflake, clapping her hands together, one, two,
three! ‘Those letters must be
the initials of each deer’s name! I bet they are called Daniel, Arthur, Neil, Georgina, Eleanor and Rum-
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Pum-Pum! Rum-Pum-Pum is my
favourite!’
While Princess Snowflake
had been sitting on the bench,
she had let Gooseberry off
his leash so that he could
go and do his business in
the bushes. (Gooseberry
ran a small and very
profitable furniture business
in the undergrowth,
selling small
tables and chairs
and suchlike to the
other animals.
Chomley the hedgehog
was one of his best
customers.)
‘Gooseberry!’ called
Princess Snowflake at
length. ‘Finish up your
business and come and walk with me
some more, there’s a good doggie!’
But no, there wasn’t a good doggie,
because Gooseberry did not come rushing out of the bushes as he normally did, barking and smiling and with dozens of silver coins spilling from his mouth. Gooseberry was nowhere to be seen,
and for the first time in her young life, Princess Snowflake knew what it was to feel fear. For the first time, she began to wish that she had listened to the witches. How long had Gooseberry been gone? Ten minutes? An hour? Even as Princess Snowflake rose from the bench to search for him, the day darkened and a cold, crisp flurry of snow began to fall. And as the snow fell, it sang:
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Whisper,
whisper so,
The wind
and
the snow
The
Gypsy
King
And his
golden
ring
Woe,
woe,
woe!
Whisper,
whisper
so,
The frostbite
on
your toe
The
Gypsy
King