Rose

Embed from Getty Images

Cook Delilah has almost finished making lunch for the girls. Ink notices this and hurries to set the dining table. Charlotte, meanwhile, is looking at a book which Rose has bought to the dining room.

Rose: I spent my holidays doing nothing. I would sit in my room, look out a tiny window and remember everything we did together before we had to go back home.

Charlotte (surprised): You did that for weeks?

Rose: Yes. I would do that everyday. I would sometimes even neglect my chores for it.

Ink: How did you get away with that?

Rose: I didn’t. I had to do them the moment my mother would find out. My parents often spend a lot of time shouting at my brother…you know, because he is twenty-seven years old and barely earns anything. So it would often be dark when my mother would find out I did not complete my chores for the day.

Charlotte (surprised): So you would do your chores at night?

Rose: Yes…and also, wish, I was somewhere else. I hate being at home.

Charlotte: Why do you go back home during the holidays then?

Rose: Last year, I had asked my father to let me stay back with some of the girls who had because they had failed the school year. But he did not permit it because he could not afford to pay my rent for an extra four months.

Charlotte: Why not?

Rose: Because my parents still have to look after my older brother. My brother left school when he was ten years old with the hope that he can find a job but he has not been able to find anything good.

Advertisements

Cook Delilah

Embed from Getty Images

Cook Delilah has put vegetables to cook in pots on a wood-burning stove. She is also peeling some potatoes; occasionally, she looks at the kitchen window and tries to find out what people are doing in the other houses.

Ink (comes to the kitchen after a quick bath): So, Delilah, do you live alone?

Cook Delilah: Yes. But my house is very small. I have to walk to come here and cook for you and the others. When I go back, I do not have anybody to talk to apart from a neighbour called Mrs. June.

Ink: Mrs. June is our history teacher.

Charlotte (comes to the kitchen carrying a pile of white dishes): Mrs. June never told you about us?

Cook Delilah: No. But it is because we usually speak about the teachers in your school. I do not like most of them.

Charlotte: Why not? Most of them aren’t ridiculous!

Cook Delilah: Most of them always have something to complain about my cooking.

Ink (surprised): They don’t like how you cook? But you cook better than my mother.

Cook Delilah: Thank you, dear! I feel I cook well too. Before meeting you five girls, I was only doing this job because I was poor and desperately needed the money to eat.

The March Makes The Cook Late

Embed from Getty Images

The door bell rings. Charlotte opens the door (to their house) and finds the cook panting and clutching her bag. The girls’ boarding school have assigned one cook to each of the houses their students are residing in; the cooks go to all of the houses three times daily to cook for the students.

Cook Delilah: Good morning! Sorry I am late! A march is taking place very close to where I live. There were too many people on the streets. It was difficult to find a way out of that and get myself here.

Charlotte: It’s fine. Come in!

Cook Delilah: Thank you. Oh! Ink, you are here already! When did you come back?

Ink: I came back today. What was the march for? Did you get any time off when we were away?

Cook Delilah: I don’t know what the march was for but the people had pinned multicolored bellflowers on their clothes and that sure looked nice. And I got no holiday. I still had to cook several meals for a few teachers everyday.

Charlotte (surprised): What were teachers still doing in school?

Cook Delilah: I am not sure what they were doing. But they ate more than they usually do. So what would you two like me to make for you today?

Charlotte: Potatoes and pork chops. And…root vegetables.

Cook Delilah: And for dessert?

Ink: Nothing for dessert. We still have to finish eating the cakes Charlotte had made with her mother.

The Private Jet

Embed from Getty Images

Noir and Cow are sitting on many multicolored poufs inside a private jet; the private jet belongs to Cow. They are flying to Sweden to visit the relics of King Spencer’s kingdom.

Cow: When is Chef Larry going to serve us food?

Noir: Around twenty minutes later. You can ask him for a bite to eat until then; he is in the airplane’s kitchen.

Cow: What will you do until he serves us?

Noir: I will read this book I bought with me – ‘The Tactful and Empathetic Princess of Eight Islands’.

Inside the airplane’s kitchen…

Cow: Chef Larry, can I have a bite to eat?

Chef Larry: Yes. I can give you a packet of barbecue popcorn.

Cow: Give me two packets! Where will you be staying in Sweden? If you don’t know yet, then you must come stay with us.

Chef Larry: I can’t stay in the same hotel as you. You are the king and I am just a cook who only cooks occasionally. But I will definitely go with you to see the relics.

The Talking Statue

Embed from Getty Images

Cow is sitting at a table in the library. The entire table is filled with books. Noir, meanwhile, is looking through more books at a bookshelf behind the table.

Cow: I feel we should give up already. We have been searching for more than six hours now!

Noir: Hold on! I might have found something again!

Cow: What is it?

Noir: In this book it is written that after Spencer’s death, a poet in his kingdom had written a long poem and the subject of the poem was the king. The poem had made many people in Spencer’s kingdom happy. They were very sad their king had died when he had gone to conquer Australia.

Cow: So the king was called Spencer?

Noir: Yeah! It is also written here that relics of Spencer’s kingdom draws over five million tourists to Sweden every year.

Cow: We should visit it!

Noir: Apparently, there is a statue of the king at the site of the relics which some tourists have claimed they have seen talk at night.

Cow: What did they hear the statue say?

Noir: The tourists heard it say ‘I will never sleep, will I?’…then they shrieked and ran away.

A King Called Spencer

Embed from Getty Images

Noir and Cow are looking through many books inside a library in Cairo. They are trying to find more information on the king mentioned in the poem.

Noir: In this book it is written than a king called Spencer used to rule Sweden in the seventeenth century and after his death life was hard for his people.

Cow: Does the book mention how Spencer had died?

Noir: It is written that Spencer lost his life because of his enemies. Some of them had mocked him at his inability to rule over a humid country.

Cow: And that had what…made Spencer mad?

Noir: Yeah! It had made him so mad he flung himself at his enemies…without a sword in his hand.

Cow (gapes): And Spencer’s enemies instantly killed him?

Noir: Yeah! I guess his temper got the worst of him. Do you think Spencer is the king in the poem?

Cow: I’m not certain. But I like this story too. Keep looking! I will not feel at ease until it gets proven the king in the poem was a real king.

The Poem

Embed from Getty Images

Cow finds a torn piece of white paper on the floor of his bedroom. He sees there is a four-line poem written on it (with red ink). He takes the piece of paper with him to the living room and reads the poem out loud to Noir and Turmeric.

Once there was a king who had a kingdom to envy,

His people loved him and those two reasons were why he was cliquey,

Tragedy struck when he went to conquer Australia,

He lost his head and all that was left in his kingdom was a zebra.

Turmeric: Who wrote that poem?

Cow: I don’t know but I like it. Was there actually a king like this?

Turmeric: Who knows?

Noir: I had heard of a king like that.

Cow: You had?

Noir: Yes. The king I had heard of used to rule a European country…I can’t recall which one though.

Six hours later…

Cow: I can’t get that poem out of my head. I want to learn more about the king and also what happened to his people after he died.

Noir: I’m sure they survived fine.

Cow: Oh! That isn’t helping me a lot! I don’t know what to do…

Turmeric: Uh, you could just believe the story in the poem isn’t real and carry on with your life. You know, a normal king would have already done that by now.