Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair by Wendy Mass Page B

My parents told me that an educated woman is a rare jewel.”
    The witch throws back her head and laughs. I truly hate it when she does that. I cross my arms and wait for her to stop.
    â€œI am your only parent now,” she says, jabbing her finger at my chest. “And the only rare jewel I care to own is one I can wear around my neck. Now go to the window and mind my words. You have one future ahead of you, and it is mine.”
    My mouth set in a straight line, I march to the window, stamping my feet as I go. I cannot think of a more horrid future than the one she’s described. I count to ten, turn around slowly to confirm the witch has gone, and run to the table. I set the sardines and milk down on the floor, and Sir Kitty pops her head out from under the blanket. She nearly trips over her little legs jumping off the “bed.” I barely taste the meat pie as it passes my lips. I am sure Steven took extra care with it, because the smell of the herbs wafts through the air as I eat. The tray is now empty except for the lid of the pot. I lift the lid off the tray to place it on top of the empty pot, and as I do, something green catches my eye. In the spot where the lid had been rests a small plate of mint jelly and a tiny silver spoon. Steven must have hidden this from the witch with the lid! I pick up the spoon and am surprised at its weight. This is surely a valuable piece. I peercloser and see a tiny letter S on the handle and wonder if Steven made this himself. I am now so used to eating with wooden utensils and keeping watch for splinters that I am not sure which is the bigger treat, the jelly or the spoon. I take the time to savor each bite. Everything tastes better when eaten with a silver spoon given by a new friend.
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    MIDDAY
    I had fully expected Steven to appear once the witch was gone from the tower. But by the time I finish the mint jelly, he still has not come. I put the tray in the middle of the rug with the silver spoon on top, hoping that might signal him somehow. I gaze up at the trapdoor, but it does not move. I sit back down on the chair, drum my fingers against the tabletop, and wait some more. And then some more after that. I had no idea time could move so slowly. Now more than ever, I realize I must leave this place as soon as possible. I do not think I would make a very good shoeshine girl. I do not wish to find out.
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    EVENING
    The sun has set. The moon is only a thin shard tonight and the tower room is dark. I am still waiting. My empty tray is still sitting on the rug. I do not know why Steven has forsaken me without even hearing my plan.
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    LATER THAT EVENING
    I have fallen asleep in my chair twice now and each time smacked my head on the hard tabletop. At this rate I shall knock myself senseless, and then where will I be? I push back the chair and open my trunk. Pushing aside the dresses, I lift out the lamp, matches, ink, a quill, and my last sheet of vellum.
    I light the lamp and set everything up at the table. I dip the quill in the ink and get ready to write what will be the most important letter of my life thus far.
    Dear Steven,
    I have much to thank you for this eve:
    1. The tub.
    2. For retrieving the towel before the witch found it.
    3. The use of your silver spoon. It is a very special spoon.
    I also have much to tell you. I have figured out a way for you to end your servitude to the witch without breaking your bargain with her. We can both free ourselves from her bonds. PLEASE come down so that I can explain everything. We must act soon. I fear she may be getting suspicious.
    With much sincerity and appreciation,
Your friend Rapunzel, tower prisoner (hopefully not for too much longer)
    I leave the note faceup on the tray so he will be sure to see it right off. I clean up, bring the lamp closer to the “bed,” and settle down to wait. Again.

Three valets are dressing me for the hunt. Why they think I am old enough to carry a weapon but not old enough