129. The Resting Place

  

My parents, Oberon and Titania, were invited to the Carnival of the Last Snows by the Russian fairies. This Carnival, though held at the same time as others, is different in that snow and ice are its most important elements.

Everyone dresses up like characters from Russian fairy tales and practices snow sports, like skating, sledding down Russian mountains or participating in sleigh races. Refreshments like blinis, caviar and vodka are served within snow palaces and there is also a carved ice sculpture contest. And one can dance to violins and balalaikas played by gypsies till one drops. 

            

On their way there, Mum and Dad stopped at Heather and Thistle’s ideal homes in Apple Island to fetch the girls. Heather and Thistle were waiting out in their gardens, which are next to each other and only separated by one small boundary stone. The girls were wearing lovely Russian princess costumes. Mom and Dad’s outfits had nothing to envy a Tzar or Tzarina’s, and while they were all complimenting each other on how splendid they looked, something he hadn’t seen there before caught Dad’s attention.

  

“Hey!” he said. “Is that a glass coffin? Who’s in it?”

There was, indeed, a large glass box with a divan in it in line with the boundary stone.

“It’s not a coffin,” explained Heather. “The person in it is only sleeping. It’s a resting place.”

“You girls have found a prince under a spell and are keeping him in your garden?” asked Mum peering at the man lying on the divan.  “Hmmm. The fellow is not bad looking. You haven’t cast a spell on him yourselves, have you?”

Dad was a little alarmed when he heard these questions.

“Putting people to sleep almost permanently is not a nice thing to do. It can only be done when nothing else can be done. You have to be at your wits’ end to do something like this legally,” Dad said. “Besides, I don’t want my daughters toying with strange men. Get rid of this coffin, girls.”

  

“But that there is Mr. Binky!” cried Heather and Thistle at the same time.

“We cleaned him up and we put him there,” explained Heather.

“Remember how he swallowed a tremendous overdose of Shyboy Oil when there was the accident with Aladdin’s lamp, Daddy?” said Thistle. “Well, Binky still hasn’t gotten over it.”

“If that is Binky, we ought to wake him right now,” said Mum.  She peered more closely at the man on the divan and added, “Just as I thought. We didn’t recognize him, Oberon, because sleeping so much is working wonders for him. You want him to look better than you when he wakes?”

“I was blessed with great beauty,” said Dad. “That won’t happen. Nobody is or will be more attractive than I. Except perhaps Darcy, to be fair. He is taller, but he is too young yet to have my mature good looks. There’s a lot to be said for experience. Fortunately Darcy is only interested in horses. Not in power.”

“But Binky is, you fool!” cried Mum. “And don’t underestimate the power of what’s new. You may be the best, but they could see you as old hat.”

“Nonsense!” insisted Dad. “All Binky knows how to do is drown in oceans of paper.”

“Which explains why you employ him. Listen, girls, we´re going to do your unwary father a favor. You keep a good eye on Mr. Binky and the minute he shows signs of waking you call me or your daddy.”

“We’re already doing that, Mum,” Heather and Thistle assured her.