Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page A

applause from the stands. I wasn’t sure if the court had so little enthusiasm for me or if they were just too well-bred to show more.
    Madame Bisset led us to a section of the stands covered by a striped tent. I sat quickly in a padded chair in the middle, and the others followed my example. The chair was too low to afford me a good view of the tournament grounds, and I was just about to ask for a replacement when I saw Madame Bisset motioning to a servant, who promptly lowered the open side of the tent. Now we were surrounded on four sides by cloth walls. We could see nothing outside the tent except a half inch of sunlight at the bottom.
    â€œWhat? What’d you do that for?” I squawked in surprise. “Now I can’t see.”
    Simprianna turned to me in astonishment. “You thought they would make us watch the tournament?” She gave a shiver of revulsion. “Horses racing? Men fighting each other? Possibly even”—her face turned pale and she could barely whisper—“bleeding?”
    I leaped from my chair, proud that I could leap in that insane dress. As it was, I had a second of fearing I would black out. I steadied myself and demanded, “Open that curtain this instant!”
    The servant looked from me to Madame Bisset. She waved him away as though I had not spoken.
    â€œBegone, James. Your services are no longer needed here.”
    When he had ducked out under the tent, she whipped her gaze toward me.
    â€œYou are a fool,” she all but snarled. “You do not know our customs, and yet you try to change them.”
    I couldn’t believe my ears.
    â€œYou mean, you go to the tournament and don’t watch it? Why? Why not just stay locked in the castle, doing needlepoint forever?” Just then I noticed that several of the women had, indeed, pulled out embroidery. I laughed, almost hysterically. “Oh, I get it, it’s a change of pace to do needlepoint in a cloth prison instead of a stone one—”
    â€œSilence!” Madame Bisset hissed. “You are a disgrace to your gender. Do you not understand? You are here to beautify the tournament. And yet, if you were visible throughout, you would distract the riders and wrestlers. We will open the tent at the end, and you will present the ribbons.”
    I gasped.
    â€œSo we aren’t allowed to see, because we might be seen.”
    â€œCorrect.”
    I truly lost control then.
    â€œThe queen is out there watching. Are you saying she’s too ugly to distract anyone?”
    Madame Bisset glared.
    â€œShe is not a virgin,” she whispered. Even in such a low tone, her voice still carried her full fury at being made to mention such a matter. “It is that combination of virginity and beauty that men must be protected from.”
    I couldn’t stand to look at Madame Bisset another second. I appealed to the others.
    â€œWhy do you put up with this?” I asked. “Doesn’t she make you want to scream?”
    Every single one of them gazed at me blankly.
    â€œDon’t you ever want to do something—something real? Don’t you ever get sick of being ladies-in-waiting? Have any of you ever wondered what you’re waiting for?”
    â€œThat is what women do. We wait,” Simprianna said primly. “Men go out and have adventures, and we wait for their return. They like to know that we are safe at home, waiting. And in this case, we also wait on you, dear Princess.”
    Her speech finished, Simprianna looked around to make sure her answer was correct.
    I didn’t wait to gauge anyone else’s reaction. Thoroughly disgusted, I reached for the tent wall. I don’t know if I intended to leave, or simply to pull back the cloth so I could see. But I was suffocating in the closed tent. I didn’t think I could stand another second of it.
    Just as I started to move the cloth, I felt a firm hand on my wrist. Madame Bisset stopped me with an