God Save the Plebeians

Princess Royal Kuki, supreme sovereign of our hearts, was thrilled to receive the personalized invite, hand-delivered to befit her regal status.

“Come to my princess tea party to celebrate my 4th birthday,” the crown-shaped foam card from a fellow princess read. The pink invitation was accorded pride of place next to Ballerina Barbie and Baby doll and examined daily by her royal highness.

The day of the magical tea party dawned, and her eminence rummaged in her closet for a gown to wear. After rejecting a half-dozen frilly party frocks with satin rosebuds and silken bows, she settled on a pair of frayed, faded jeans two sizes too small to be considered capris.

The royal queen and queen mother collectively clutched their hearts and gasped. “Surely, child, you’re not going to wear that to the party?” they exclaimed. “What about your beautiful ball gown with lacy ruffles and silver sparkles? That’s what our very own Cinderella wore to her first ball.”

The pint-sized princess proceeded to throw a royal tantrum, complete with Jumping Jacks and dramatic shrieks and collapsed in a sobbing heap on her pink bed.

The king, awoken from a slumber, gently suggested that the royal offspring be allowed to wear whatever she wanted. A withering look from his consort silenced him, and the king retired to attend to important matters of the state, such as checking the status of the duel between the warring Cardinals and the Patriots.

After close to an hour of negotiations, entreaties, recriminations, threats, tears and promises of unlimited cherry-flavored Popsicle, a chastened, red-eyed princess allowed herself to be dressed in a wispy, Pepto-Bismol-colored gown, sure to draw the envy of her peers at the tea party.

As the queen and queen mother hovered anxiously over her, the princess ordered her nails be painted a mixed hue of pink and silver to complement her outfit. She pointed to her mother’s maquillage and demanded the same shade of lipstick and blush on her cheeks.

Crystal beads from the far corners of Asia graced her neck, and silver bracelets adorned her petal-soft arms. Her majesty’s sweeping ringlets were teased and tied back, and a pink tiara, matching her outfit, was pinned to her hair.

An hour of primping, fluffing, preening, spiffing and cajoling later, the women stood back admiringly and declared that the fair child was the prettiest princess they had ever seen.

The Princess Royal twirled in front of the mirror a final time, collected her pink purse from a waiting knave and emerged from the dressing room to the sound of coos and excited calls.

Waiting paparazzo at the foot of the stairs went into overdrive and camera lights flashed to record her grace’s every move.

The pretty princess floated toward the garage door, where her carriage awaited. She paused in front of the shoe rack and surveyed her assorted collection of pink pumps, silver heels, Mary Janes, patent party shoes and Dora the Explorer athletic sneakers.

With a defiant glance at the assembled adults and a contemptuous flick of her mane, she proceeded to slide her dainty feet into a pair of Finding Nemo flip-flops that the royal canine regularly used as a gum cleanser.

Her Royal Highness was now officially ready for her social engagement.