THIRTY SIX
MISS MELT descended from a clear blue sky in the bright sun. A horse-drawn carriage rambled below on a rutty dirt path. The vehicle was adorned with royal insignias and flags.
At seeing her above him, the driver trembled. He whipped his animals as hard as he could in a feeble attempt to escape her.
She simply floated down before them, gazed into their eyes, and they trotted to a halt. The frantic human continued to whip and crossed himself in his terrified delirium.
Pandora's shimmering bare feet touched down onto the rumps of the nearest horse pair, and she flashed her eyes to silence the crazed little man. "Who is your king?"
The driver's hands shook uncontrollably, as they clung to a rosary necklace.
"Answer."
"My lord is King Philip."
"Is he old, young? Attractive?"
