The Birthday Ball by Lois Lowry Read Free Book Online Page B

But he didn't look up.
    "Mother?" But the queen continued to sip at her soup and made no reply.
    The princess gestured to the serving girl who stood near her chair. It was the alto, one of the three identical kitchen maids who sang together so beautifully in the kitchen.
    "Yes, miss?" The serving girl curtsied.
    The princess, hearing the deep timbre of the serving girl's voice, which she had never noticed before, remembered what Tess had told her about the music in the kitchen.
    "Are you the one who sings?" the princess asked.
    The serving girl blushed. "Yes, miss, but only in the kitchen. Never above-stairs, I promise."
    "And those two? Are they the ones who sing with you? My chambermaid told me."
    The other two sisters looked up. One stood at the far end of the table behind the king, and the other behind the queen at the opposite end. They noticed that the princess had pointed them out, and looked nervous.
    "Yes, miss. More soup, miss? I can ring for the pulley boy to send some. Or there's pheasant pie next, quite lovely."
    "No, no. I've had quite enough soup. I would like you to do something, though."
    "Yes, miss."
    "I would like to converse with my parents, but I can't seem to get their attention. Would you and the others—are they your sisters, by the way?"
    "Yes, miss. Triplets, we are, all three of us born together in a whoosh whoosh whoosh, our ma said, such a surprise, but too many to feed. So now we're serving maids and take our meals for free."
    "I was asking about singing. Is it true, what my chambermaid told me, that you sing?"
    "Yes, miss, it is that."
    "Well, would you and your sisters please sing something rousing? An attention-getting song?"
    The serving girl looked stricken. "Oh, miss, it simply ain't allowed. Never never never. To sing above-stairs."
    "Nonsense. I order it. Let me hear a first note."
    Trembling, the girl hummed a note. Hmmmmm. Even though it was a small, frightened hum, the princess could hear the rich tone of her voice.
    "Louder, please."
    Hmmmmmm.
    The two other serving girls looked over in surprise, and then each one hummed in harmony.
    Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmmm. Their voices, together, blended into an exquisite sound. The king and queen, looking quite startled, both put down their soup spoons.
    "It's all right! I've given them permission! I ordered them to do it!" the princess called to her parents in explanation.
    "What?" the queen asked. "They've been given persimmons?"
    "Permission," the king explained loudly. "Our daughter. Permission. Ordered them."
    "I see," the queen replied, still confused.
    "Once more," the princess said to the serving girls. "Move closer together."
    Timidly the three girls moved to stand in a row. Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmmm. They hummed the three-part harmony once again.
    "Do you do words?" the princess asked. "Or just hums?"
    "Oh, all sorts of words, miss. Tra-la s and such, as well."
    One of the sopranos giggled. " Fiddle-de-fee s, on occasion," she said.
    "I'd like you to compose a song about the Birthday Ball. Maybe it could be a kind of, well, a celebration song."
    "We could do a 'Happy Birthday to You,' miss. We do it all the time in the kitchen. It's always somebody's birthday. Cook's, last Thursday."
    The princess frowned. "No. That's too ordinary. I'd like an original celebratory song."
    "Yes, miss. We'll practice one down in the scullery. Shall I call for the pheasant pie now?"
    "Oh, I suppose so. Sing for it, though."
    The three serving girls grinned. They moved to the bell rope, which alerted the pulley boy, and one of the girls pulled on it. Then they opened the door in the wall and sang down to the kitchen:
    " Pheasant pie! Pheasant pie! Pheasant pie! "
    From below, echoing up through the passageway carved through three floors of thick stone, a baritone replied in song: " Pheasant piiiiieee! " and with the pulley boy's voice they could hear a small staccato accompaniment, the elderly serving boy tapping in time on the stone wall with a heavy fork. The rope