Rosaline the Meadow Princess

Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived a little girl in a castle, whose name was Rosaline. She was pretty and sweet, with rosy cheeks and a button nose. She was loved by her mother, father and three older brothers, but she had one peculiarity: on each foot she had six toes.

“Six toes,” cried Michaela, leaning into her mother’s lap to look at the pictures.

“That’s right,” said Mom, pointing at the illustration. Little Rosaline’s toes were emphasized by the angle at which they were spread.

Every morning, Mother would braid Rosaline’s hair. In the afternoons, Rosaline played in the fields by the castle, while her brothers fished in the stream. She tried to catch butterflies, make friends with fawns and sing with birds. But the butterflies flew too quickly, the fawns shied away, and the birds stopped singing once Rosaline began. Nevertheless, the little girl persisted.

In the evenings, Rosaline was bathed and her hair brushed until it shone. She was tucked into bed and told a story. One night it would be the story of a young girl who grew up in a city full of merchants, every day selling their goods of handmade lace, beaded jewellery and leather-bound books. Another night it would be the story of a young man who belonged to the tree people and lived in a great forest, who one day left home on a quest for a flower at the top of a hill that would cure the ailment of the tree people’s princess. Rosaline loved the stories.

“People made of trees?” asked Michaela.

“No,” Mom said with a laugh, “Real people who live in trees.”

Michaela looked up at her mother with big brown eyes. “Like in our tree house?”

“I guess they must have some kind of house,” said Mom.

Michaela smiled and returned solemnly toward the images in the book.

One day, Rosaline went for a walk with Mother across the stream where the boys liked to fish. The ducks in the stream followed Rosaline along as she threw bread crumbs into the water. Rosaline ran ahead of her mother, throwing her crumbs and chasing after squirrels. She did not hear Mother’s call as she skipped away, imagining she was a princess and that the castle was a palace.

Soon Rosaline found herself in a meadow full of deer. They nudged their little fawns in the grass, encouraging them to eat. Rosaline squealed with delight at the sight of them, but as soon as she made such noise, the deer hurried their fawns away. Rosaline made a pout, just as she heard Mother’s musical voice.

“Rosaline,” she called, “Rosaline, come out of the meadow.”

Rosaline looked in her mother’s direction and waved. Mother was approaching quickly, her white dress blowing in the breeze. To Rosaline, she looked like an angel.

“I tried to see the fawns, Mama,” said Rosaline, “But they all ran away.”

“Come out of the meadow,” her mother repeated, “There are hunters.”

“They don’t hunt me, Mama,” Rosaline protested, “I want to see the fawns.”

Mother reached her then, and took her by the hand. “The fawns will only return when the hunters go away, Rose.” She urged Rosaline out of the meadow.

Rosaline walked quickly by her mother’s side until one of her extra little toes – sticking out of her sandal – caught in a shrub and made her trip.

“Oh-oh…” said Rosaline, a her face turning into a pout, “I always get this toe stuck! All I wanted was to see the fawns.”

Rosaline’s mother patiently pulled the little foot from the shrub and picked the little girl up. She spoke soothingly, “Let’s go home, Rosaline. You can see the fawns there too.”

Rosaline looked earnestly into her mother’s eyes. “Why do the hunters come to the meadow, Mama?”

“It’s where the animals are,” her mother replied as she continued walking with Rosaline in her arms.

“But why do they want the animals?” asked Rosaline.

“Because they are hunters,” said Mother.

Rosaline’s little face was serious as she thought. “Mama,” she began again, curiously, “Why do I have twelve toes? Everybody else only has ten.”

They were beside the stream now, and Mother put Rosaline down to walk beside her. “You were born that way, Sweetheart. Don’t you ever worry about your toes. It’s the goodness of your heart that matters more than any beauty.”

Rosaline looked up at her mother, pressing her chest to find a heartbeat. “Is my heart good?”

Mother laughed. “Yes, Rosaline, your heart is very good.”

With a happy smile, Rosaline grabbed her mother’s hand and hurried back toward the castle, imagining again that she was a princess, and this time that her mother was the queen. And that there they would live happily ever after, just like the stories.

The End.

“So… what happened to the fawns?” asked Michaela when the story was over.

“They probably went back to the meadow after the hunters were gone,” said Mom.

Michaela was looking at the last illustration in the book, of Rosaline and her gleeful smile, tugging at her mother’s hand. The colours splashed across the page and made the whole book look happy.

Michaela yawned a little yawn. “How do you know if your heart is good?”

“Well,” replied Mom, closing the book, “if you’re good to others and make good choices… If God loves everyone, we should try to too.”

Michaela nodded faintly, looking sleepily at her mother. “Can we read another one?”

Mom smiled, even as she shook her head. “It’s time to sleep.” She kissed Michaela goodnight and turned out the light.