So, all in all, she smelled just as a princess should, and her parents were pretty well satisfied. More satisfied than the princess herself, certainly. Violet found her own smell boring, and often declared that there must be many far more interesting scents in the world, a statement that always gave her mother a bad case of the quivering vapors.

It did not improve matters any when Bindlepod the goblin came to visit.

If it had been up to him, the king never would have allowed the goblin into the court to begin with. Alas for him, Bindlepod was not merely a goblin, but an ambassador from Goblinland, with which the kingdom had recently been at war. So the king was obliged not merely to let him in, but to offer him hospitality.

Bindlepod’s skin was the color of rotting toadstools. His bare feet slapped on the stone floors of the castle like dirty dishrags. The pupils of his oversize yellow eyes did not stay still, but instead swam about like tadpoles—which made it very distracting to try to hold a conversation with him.

But the most distressing thing about him was his smell. While nobody could say exactly what it was Bindlepod smelled of, everybody agreed that it was distinctly unpleasant, and somehow made them think of dark and distant places.

Everybody, that is, except the princess.

She thought Bindlepod smelled quite interesting.

“You must be joking, darling,” said the queen, speaking through the handkerchief she was holding over her mouth and nose.

“Of course I’m not joking,” said Violet.

“But he’s . . . he’s revolting,” sputtered the king.

“I don’t think so,” said the princess calmly.

“I can’t stand this!” cried the queen, and she fled the room, shedding copious tears as she went.

“There,” said the king. “Now see what you’ve done?”

“What?” asked Violet, who was totally baffled. “What have I done?”

“As if you didn’t know,” sniffed her father bitterly.

Later that day, the princess was walking in the castle garden when she spotted Bindlepod’s frog, which was nearly as tall as she was. It was wearing its saddle, as if Bindlepod had just returned from a ride, or was about to leave on one.

A little farther on she spotted the goblin himself. He was perched on the stone wall, gnawing a raw fish.

Violet walked over and looked at him for a few moments. He nodded at her but said nothing, preferring to give his attention to the fish.

“My parents don’t like you,” she said, partly because she was annoyed, but mostly to see how he would respond.

The goblin took another bite of the fish, smacking his lips as he did. Then he said, “I’m not surprised. Are you?”

“I think they’re pains,” said the princess, surprising herself with her bitterness.