At the far edge of the greensward she saw a mass of great trees. One of those must be the oak with the hollow, she thought. There was a narrow path that led into the grove. A soft wind began to blow and stirred the branches through which sun filtered. Shards of bright light and shadows did a shifting dance. It was pleasant and quiet. She found it restful. Palace work was not easy. And it would only get harder when the two princesses arrived. Of course she had it easier than the char girls, who seemed permanently crouched over, scrubbing the hard stone floors. But Mrs. Dobkins was always calling on her and Sara for something. And it was heavy work. Flipping the mattresses was very difficult on the high beds. And since Mrs. Dobkins had discovered that Rose had a way with a needle, she was constantly being called upon to repair clothing. Mostly undergarments, as the fine gowns were sent to one of the dozen royal seamstresses in residence. She hadn’t realized how tired she was and decided to sit down at the mossy base of a tree stump and rest.

Just a minute, she thought before she yawned and fell asleep.

She found herself walking through a place of shadows and whispers. There was a familiar scent—linoleum. Linoleum? Not here, she thought. Not here at Greenwich. Linoleum and mac and cheese.

The whispers grew louder. Three dark figures turned. She could hardly make them out in the shadowy fog, but then she spied something glittering as a blue streak cut through the murk. She was in the school lunchroom. She smelled the disgusting chicken fries piled on a plate with ice-cream-shaped scoops of mashed potatoes. The bologna and cheese stuffed into pita bread. “Yuck!” she cried out in her dream. “Why would anybody do that to pita pockets?”

“Oh, Miss Fashion Plate,” said one of the girls. “Too fancy for bologna but full of baloney!”

“We have plans for you—and your kind.” A sharp face cut through the gloom. The tip of the pointy nose wiggled, and the mouth pulled back in a diabolical grin to show sharp little teeth—rat teeth.

They’re coming for me, Rose thought. And yet she couldn’t move. She could not speak or cry out. Her mind was alert but useless, because her body was locked, paralyzed. The teeth grew larger and sharper. All three figures were now approaching, each wearing purple and gold. Their shoulders were draped in weasels, with the heads dangling limply—ermine fur!

“Mean Queens!” Rose gasped. “I am being stalked by Mean Queens.”

“Girl! Girl, why are you sleeping?” A voice scratched through her dream.