Soon all the princes took up the game, tossing the frog around like
a beanbag. Lilly was just sailing through the air for the fifth time, con-
sidering where to install each of her attackers in the dungeon if, and
when, she returned to her normal self, when she was snatched out of
midair and gently cradled in a hand.
“STOP THAT!” someone said. When Lilly’s head stopped spin-
ning, she looked around and saw she was cupped in the hands of the
stableboy—Robert.
He stood in his mud-spattered clothes with shoulders back and eyes
defiant, facing down the princes before him.
“What gives you the right to treat a creature so badly?” he asked.
The first prince raised an eyebrow.
“We’re princes,” he stated. “We have any rights we choose.”
“Then, perhaps, you should make better choices,” Robert said
sternly, glaring until all of the princes dropped their eyes.
“It’s only a frog,” was the general muttered opinion. They didn’t mut-
ter it too loudly, however, for there was something in Robert’s eyes that
suggested he was willing to enforce his warning with more than words.22