Valerie
Marigold swept in, producing a notepad from her apron. “The engagement party has been canceled,” she explained. “The princess has fallen ill. That means there will be no cake to prepare. No three-course-meal as planned. However,” she went on, “the celebration is still in effect. We will continue with the hors d’oeuvres. You girls here, drop everything you’re doing and go bake some bread for finger sandwiches. You, cutting tomatoes—the Northerners request a platter of roasted vegetables be added to the spread. Cut some of those into quarters while you’re at it.”
The entire kitchen seemed to let out a unified breath of relief. We had been short-handed, and still had dozens of dishes to produce in a matter of hours.
The Northerners were insatiable people. They seemed to want every
