Pig Latin--Not Just for Pigs! (6 page)

“Oh, joy!” cried Angus. “This must be Chef Pierre’s famous cherry pie!”

“This is Chef Pierre’s newest creation,” said the servant. “A beezleberry pie.”

“What?” cried Angus. “No, no! Say not so! For I am allergic to beezleberries!” He slumped down in his chair.

“What happens if you eat a beezleberry?” asked Wiglaf.

“Hives,” said Angus. “One bite, and I’d have twice as many spots as King Ken had before.”

“Ity-pay,” “said
the king. Then to the servant he said,
”Erve-say it-yay up-yay!“

“Serve it up,” Erica translated.

The servant cut the pie and handed Wiglaf a slice. He ate slowly, enjoying every delicious bite. He saved some for Daisy.

As the servant served the pie, Angus groaned, “This is the worst day of my life!”

“Hey! The minstrel was right, Angus!” exclaimed Janice suddenly. “You just said nay to pie! And hey—I met a wizard. My fortune came true, too.”

Erica gasped. “And I saw spots!” she said. “All over you, Popsy!”

“I-yay ay-say!”
said the king.

So the minstrel had not lost his fortune-telling powers after all,
thought Wiglaf. Again, the minstrel’s words came back to him:
Keep a close eye on your pig.

A bad feeling crept over Wiglaf. Maybe it had been unwise to leave Daisy alone. Perhaps he should go and check on her right now. He popped up from the table. But just then, the queen swept into the dining hall. Everyone rose and bowed, then sat back down. Wiglaf sat back down, too.

Queen Barb’s crown was straight. She wore a fresh gown and oodles of jewels.

“Here I am, Kenny!” she said. “All refreshed. Had a lovely soak and an herbal wrap. Are you feeling better too, dear?”

“Olly jay ood-gay!”
said King Ken.

“Ohhhh,” groaned the queen. “You’re still speaking pig!”

“It-say own-day, Absie-bay,”
said King Ken.
“Ave-hay ome-say upper-say!”

The queen turned pale. “Kenny,” she said, “this pig talk has got to stop!”

The king shrugged.
“An‘t-cay op-stay.”

“He can‘t, Mumsy,” said Erica. “He wants you to sit down and have some supper.”

Queen Barb sank into her golden chair. “You’ve always babbled nonsense, Kenny. But at least before, I understood the words!” She pulled out her hankie and dabbed at her eyes. “Your subjects are coming to hear your speech. You’ve got to stop speaking pig by tomorrow!”

The servant set a golden plate in front of the queen. But she pushed it away.

“Remember what happened to that emperor who had no clothes, Kenny?” asked the queen. “Banished! If your subjects hear you talking pig, they’ll rise up in arms. Oh, woe is us, Kenny! It will be the end of the kingdom!”

D
aisy?“ Wiglaf said softly as he cracked open the door to the king’s chamber.

Everyone was still down in the feasting hall, except for Angus. Even without the pie, he had eaten way too much.

Now he was in one of the 435 bedrooms, lying down with a bellyache.

“Daisy?” Wiglaf called again. “I’ve brought your supper.”

Daisy did not answer.

Wiglaf went in and put the supper tray on the bedside table. The bedcovers were rumpled. But the bed was empty.

“Daisy!” cried Wiglaf, looking around. “Where are you?”

Wiglaf searched the room. He raced up and down the torch-lit hallways, calling his pig. He opened door after door and called her name into the dark. But he found no sign of his pig. He lost his way for a while in the huge palace, but at last he found the Blue Feasting Hall. The king and queen had retired for the night.

“Daisy is missing!” cried Wiglaf. “We must find her!”

“This is the Royal Palace, Wiggie,” said Erica. “What harm could come to her here?”

Her words made Wiglaf feel better. Yet he had to see his pig. He had to make sure she was all right.

“Let’s all look for Daisy,” Janice said.

“Daisy!” called Wiglaf as they peered into the Throne Room and Ballroom.

“Daisy girl!” he called as they looked in the Treasury and the Tapestry Room.

They asked every guard, servant, and lady-in-waiting they met along the way. But no one had seen Daisy.

At last they went to the Royal Kitchen. The palace cooks were busy making soup and baking pies and breads for tomorrow’s feast.

“Has anyone seen a pig?” Erica asked.

“Not I, Princess,” said the soup cook.

“Nor I,” said the baker.

“Zee peeg?” said Chef Pierre. “Oui! I feex a
itrès bon
supper for zee peeg.”

“You did?” cried Wiglaf. Relief flooded over him. “Then Daisy is all right!”

“Oui,”
said Pierre. “First, I send up zee supper. Zen I have zee servant take zee peeg to zee spa. She eez having a nice soak in zee hot toob right now.”

Wiglaf smiled. Daisy in a hot tub! “She must like that.”

The chef nodded. “And every hour I send her treats—pies and cakes and tarts. I take good care of zee peeg.”

Hearing that, Wiglaf was content. And very tired. Not long after that, Erica walked him to his room—a whole room all to himself. He climbed into a great big bed—big enough to hold him and his twelve beefy brothers without anybody falling out! He had a goose-down pillow. And a goose-down coverlet. To think, back in Pinwick, his bed had been a pile of straw!

Still, Wiglaf found it hard to sleep. For the queen paced up and down the hallway late into the night, sobbing loudly. King Ken yelled over the sobbing, trying to soothe her.

“On‘t-day orry-way, Absie-bay!”
the king cried.
“I yay ow-knay y-may eech-spay! Isten-lay!”
He cleared his throat.
“Adies-lay and yay entlemengay! Easants-pay and yay illagers-vay!”

“We are doomed, Kenny!” wailed the queen. “Doomed!”

Wiglaf tried to think happy thoughts to help himself fall asleep. He imagined Daisy relaxing in the hot tub. He imagined giving Molwena and Fergus the coin of Basilisk Gold. Fergus would bite it to make sure it was real gold. And Molwena would cry for joy. What was it that made this gold so special? Did each basilisk have twenty-four pieces of gold? If that was it, Basil now had only twenty-three coins. At last Wiglaf drifted off to sleep.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the palace window. His tunic and leggings had been washed, pressed, and laid out for him. He was living like a prince! He threw on his clothes and hurried downstairs.

The royal family, Janice, and Angus were already sitting at the dining table.

“You slept through breakfast, Wiglaf,” Angus said, seeming fully recovered. “And we’ve just finished lunch.”

“Why
don‘tjou
give the speech?” Erica was asking her sniveling, red-eyed mother.

“It has always been the king,” said the queen. “It must be the king! Oh, the kingdom is toast!”

“I-yay ow-knay!”
cried the king.
“I yay ill-way eclare-day Ig-pay Atin-lay e-thay official-yay anguage-lay of-yay e-thay ingdom-kay!”

“What’s that?” asked Queen Barb.

“The king said, ‘I will declare Pig Latin the official language of the kingdom,’ ” Wiglaf told them.

“Our subjects can hardly speak English!” cried the queen. “They could never learn pig!” She began to weep again.

Now Chef Pierre entered the feasting hall.

He bowed and said,
“Bon!
Here eez zee menu for zee feast, your majesties. It does not matter zat we have no pheasant. I am preparing something else even better. It will be
magnifique!”
He handed Queen Barb a sheet of parchment.

Queen Barb dabbed at her nose with her hankie as she read. “Fine,” she said without enthusiasm. “If our subjects don’t rebel. If there is a feast.” She handed the menu to the king.

The king looked at it.
“Ery-vay ice-nay!”
he said, and he handed it to Erica.

“Let me see it!” said Angus eagerly.

Wiglaf looked on with Angus.

Water-Lily Soup! Wiglaf had never heard of anything so exotic. But he did not like the idea of eating blackbirds. Or rabbits’ feet. Or pigeon parts.

“What is
‘cochon’?”
he asked Angus.

Angus shrugged. “I don’t know, but it sounds delicious!”

Fawnsley stepped over to the boys and bowed. “I could not help but overhear your question,” he said. “A
cochon
is a pig.”

Wiglaf nodded. “Thank-” He stopped.

A
cochon
is a pig?

An herb-marinated
pig?

Uh-oh!

D
aisy!“ cried Wiglaf, leaping to his feet.

“Daisy what?” said Angus.

“Daisy is on the menu!” cried Wiglaf.

“I-yay ay-say!”
cried the king.

“Where?” said Janice. “I don’t see her.”

“She is the
cochon!”
said Wiglaf. “Chef Pierre wants to cook her! Come on! We have to save Daisy!”

“Ohh!” wailed the queen as Erica jumped up with her friends. “What next?”

The four sped pell-mell up the marble stairs of the South Tower. They raced down the hallway to the Royal Spa. A blue-clad servant sat at the front desk.

“The pig!” cried Erica. “Where is she?”

“In the hot tub, last I looked, Princess,” the servant said.

Off they raced to a steamy, sweet-smelling room. In its center was a great round tub.

Wiglaf stared at the steamy, swirling water. “Daisy’s gone!” he cried. “Oh, this is all my fault! If only I had heeded the minstrel and kept watch on my pig!”

“And look!” said Angus. “A huge pile of empty plates!” He pointed to dirty dishes stacked beside the hot tub. “Chef Pierre has been fattening up Daisy!”

“To the kitchen!” shouted Janice.

Down the stairs they ran. They burst into the palace kitchen.

“Where is the pig?” Erica shouted to the bakers and roasters. “Tell us at once!”

“There she is!” cried Wiglaf. His eyes widened in horror, for Daisy was sitting up to her neck in steaming liquid inside a big, black cooking pot! A leafy bouquet was stuck into the cleft of one hoof. Her eyes were closed. Her skin had turned deep pink.

“We are too late!” cried Wiglaf. “She is cooked!” He ran to the tub and threw his arms around his pig.

Daisy’s eyes fluttered open.

“She lives!” cried Angus.

“Oh, Daisy!” Wiglaf cried.

“Hello, Wiglaf,” said Daisy dreamily. “I’m having an herbal soak. I sent a servant out to get blisterwort. I was just about to scatter these leaves in the tub to get rid of my pox. Oh, this bath feels heavenly.” She gave a contented sigh.

“Quick!” cried Wiglaf. “We have to get her out of there!”

“Oh, no, please,” said Daisy. “When else am I going to get such royal treatment? I want to enjoy it as long as I can!”

Wiglaf grabbed Daisy under one foreleg. Janice grabbed her under the other.

“One, two, three, heave!” called Janice.

They lifted the hot pink pig out of the pot. The leaves in Daisy’s hoof went flying. Erica and Angus grabbed some dish towels and began drying her off.

“Why did you do that?” asked Daisy, near tears. “I love the hot tub!”

“That was no hot tub, Daisy,” said Wiglaf. “That was a cooking pot!”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Noooo.”

“I’m afraid he’s right,” said Erica.

“Look,” said Angus. He held up the menu for the feast.

“Cochon?”
Daisy’s jaw dropped open. “You mean I’ve been
marinoting?”

Wiglaf and the others nodded.

Just then King Ken and Queen Barb rushed into the kitchen.

The cooks bowed.

“There you are, darling,” the queen said to Erica. “I’ve been looking all over for you. We’ve decided to make a quick getaway. We must pack up—right now.”

“What?” cried Erica.

“You mean there won’t be any feast?” cried Angus.

The queen shook her head. “No speech, no feast,” she said. “Come, darling. It’s better this way. We’d best be gone when our subjects revolt.”

“Excuse me, Your Royal Highnesses,” said Daisy. “But I have read that wizards can work Undo Spells to reverse their own mistakes.”

“Daisy!” said Wiglaf. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve always wanted to summon a wizard,” Daisy went on. “When I spoke Pig Latin, that was impossible. But now I can do it! Ready? Conlez! Conlez! Conlez!”

A white flash lit the room and Zelnoc stood before them.

“Ood gay ief-gray!”
shrieked the king.

“Bats and bathtubs!” Zelnoc cried angrily. He wore an apron over his star-bespeckled blue robe. “Am I summoned by a pig?”

“That’s right,” said Daisy.

“We’re counting on you, dear Wizard!” said the queen.

“Ah, Your Highlyness!” Zelnoc bowed. Then he muttered, “This is what I get for leaving my summoner on—never a moment’s peace! I just put a batch of Milky Way Shape-Shifters into the oven. Delightful pastries! One bite, and you take on any shape you wish. They’ll be burned to a crisp by the time I get home again.” He shot Daisy a dirty look. “So what’ll it be, porker?”

“When last you were here, Zelnoc,” Daisy said calmly, “your Get-Well Spell went wrong.”

“Wrong?” said Zelnoc. “Not so. I was interrupted midspell. The accident turned the spell into a switcheroo. Pox for you. Pig Latin for the king.”

“Whatever, Wizard,” said Daisy. “The king needs to speak proper English for his speech tonight. Have you got a spell to help him?”

“Please, Wizard, say yes,” said the queen.