That’s a saddle? Luckily Rose glimpsed Mrs. Dobkins mounting a squat gray horse. Rose watched as she saw her wrap her left leg around the hornlike thing that projected from the saddle and then saw her foot set on a small rest, not a stirrup. The whole affair looked very odd, as Mrs. Dobkins appeared to be sitting sideways, yet faced forward.

“Ready, Rose?” Andrew said, leading the horse up to her.

“Yes, of course.” She felt his hands clasp her waist and in the next second was sitting in the saddle. It felt strange, but oddly comfortable. Rather like sitting in a chair. The saddle was cushioned and there was a padded back piece.

“Rose! Rose!” she heard a voice calling. It was Franny. She was limping back toward her, waving something in her hand. “I nearly forgot to give you this.”

“What?”

Franny shoved a piece of paper into Rose’s pocket.

“What’s this?”

“A letter.” Franny blushed and smiled broadly.

“A letter from who?”

“Me! Who else? My first letter ever.”

“But, Franny, we’ve hardly begun the scriving lessons.”

“Yes, but you wrote out those letters so beautifully for me and told me how each one had a name and a sound. I just practiced and practiced into the wee-est hours of the night, until the candle flickered out.” She took a deep breath. “So I did it. Wrote you a letter. A short one, and my letters are all wobbly. Like just-born baby lambs trying to stand up for the first time.”

“Oh . . . Franny.” Rose felt her eyes fill with tears.

“You got me started. And I’ll keep practicing.”

Rose was left speechless.

“Gotta go,” Franny said. “We have a ewe about to birth a lamb out of season. Never a good situation.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rose said, trying to appear somewhat knowledgeable. It was ridiculous, for what she knew about birthing lambs couldn’t even fill the smallest Post-it. What in the world would these folks think of Post-its? Or cars, or televisions, or iPhones?

At just this moment in Rose’s musings, Mrs. Dobkins rode up to her. “This is always so jolly.” She had lost her usually stern demeanor.

“And how long a ride is it, Mrs. Dobkins?”

“Three days if the roads are clear. Enough time to prepare the palace before the princesses arrive.”

“Have a good ride, Rose,” Andrew said.

“Andrew,” Rose whispered, “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why’s that?”

“I haven’t really ridden that much.”

“Oh yes, should have thought of that. Never worked in a palace before. Palace servants know how. Well, all you need to remember is the emergency grip. It’s a way of locking yourself in the saddle, especially for jumping.”

“Good grief, jumping?”

“No jumping on this route. That’s for sport. Just clamp that knee around the saddle horn if you feel wobbly. It will lock you right in.” He gave her knee a friendly pat.