LAUREL DECHER

“Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . .” –Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

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About TROUBLE WITH PARSNIPS

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The Magic of Speaking Up

The nameless princess might get a name today!

Her 14th try is looking good . . . Even though she can’t get a word in edgewise.


Then the Blackfly Queen strides into the feasting hall . . . Just as the oh-so-tasty parsnip fries run out.


Arrows fly! Tempers flare! Another christening goes up in smoke! 


Her fairy godmother’s perfect leadership gift has one small side effect: The princess has 15 days to make a name for herself . . .
Or she’ll be invisible for life! What’s a princess to do? 


Can she finally use the tool that’s never worked. . .her quiet voice?

For ages 9 to 12

For fans of Jean Ferris’ Once Upon A Marigold, Jessica Day George’s Tuesdays at the Castle series. It’s Gail Carson Levine’s Ella Enchanted meets The King’s Speech.

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Laurel Decher

Laurel Decher author as a kid

Reading Age:
9 to 12

A Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tale: Book 1

book recommendations for 10 year olds Seven Kingdoms book covers

Print length:

266 pages

Publication date:

Oct 4, 2018

Paperback, hardcover, ebook, audiobook

Language: English

spiked gate coming down to block castle

Can a magically-disguised princess make herself heard when it really matters?

The fifteenth child of the royal family of Cochem can’t get anyone to listen. She’s got tools, solid ideas, and important information. Someone has to stop the Blackfly Queen before it’s too late!

Have you ever had a great idea and couldn’t get anyone to listen? Or maybe you built an amazing model or folded a paper jet or cooked up something else that turned out fair to excellent–but no one was interested.

If you know what I’m talking about, you’ll relate to Twyla’s story–oops! The name of this inventor princess is top secret! Don’t tell! In the book, she goes by “Fifteenth”.

Why read Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales?

“Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . .” –Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

If you’re looking for kids books that ignite curiosity, you’ve come to the right place! These exciting children’s books are about exploring life’s possibilities and finding the magic hidden inside each of us.

In the Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales, royal kids take on magical challenges that are difficult but worthwhile. When you’re on an extraordinary adventure, it’s funny how an ordinary thing can help. These smart and friendly heroes and heroines speak up, (and hatch dragons), take tests, (and defeat the Blackfly queen), deal with less than perfect scores, (and cupids), find their way around, (and get lost), stay friends even when they disagree, (and struggle with fairy godparents) and find a way to belong in a new place.

For ages 9 to 12. Read the books in any order.

Whether it’s speaking up at a feast, reading a compass or taking a test in a strange kingdom, these Tales are all about discovering the magic in your life!

What Readers Say:

“I love all the rich details like the Blackflies, the goldfish in the moat, the sluices carrying the desserts . . .”
–Karin Lefranc
author, I WANT TO EAT YOUR BOOKS
“Kids will love every quirky thing about it!”
–Kristi Wientge
author, KARMA KHULLAR’S MUSTACHE​
“I love the premise of hiding in plain sight. The concept that a kid could go through childhood – and life – without feeling they are being heard or seen is such an important topic . . . I know a lot of kids will be drawn to this!”
–Halli Gomez
contributing author, BRAVE NEW GIRLS: TALES OF HEROINES WHO HACK
“Emotionally engaging. I feel much sympathy for [the nameless princess], yet at the same time her parents and all their inadequacies are so endearing.”
–Michelle Leonard
contributing author, BRAVE NEW GIRLS: STORIES OF GIRLS WHO SCIENCE AND SCHEME, Young Adult (Sci-Fi Anthology for ages 12+)

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Chapter 1: A Delayed Party

Deepen the Learning, Add to the Fun!

Take a mini-tour of Cochem!

The real town of Cochem has a castle perched high above the Mosel River valley in Germany. It’s the inspiration for the Cochem Kingdom in Trouble With Parsnips. There’s something in the air that just says fairy tale. Take a mini-tour.

Test Your Skill!

Test your skill and your knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms with a maze or a puzzle.

Get a Quiz For Your School or Library!

Get quizzes for each of the Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales, formatted as a ready-to-upload teacher quiz for AR.

Get into the spirit of fun with this book trailer

The book cover has changed, but the story is still the same zany adventure! Feel free to share with your library patrons or students who are deciding what book to read next.

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Trouble With Parsnips

Trouble With Parsnips in all book formats


Copyright © 2018 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

ISBN 978-3-9820075-0-2 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-1-9 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-2-6 (ebook Edition)

ISBN 979-8-3314084-1-1 (Barnes & Noble Paperback Edition)

Library of Congress Control Number:  2018907982

CONTENTS

  1. A Delayed Party 1

  2. Too Late for Parsnips 16

  3. The Fairy Godmother Takes Her Time 31

  4. Out of the Dishwater and Into the Storm 46

  5. A Rocky Situation 60

  6. A Princely Rescue 72

  7. Charming Complications 85

  8. Speaking Clearly with Tact Is an Art 97

  9. The Rook Egg 112

  10. Brooding in the Dungeon 128

  11. The Peppermint Tea House 145

  12. Early for a Change 160

  13. Dungeon Hospitality 171

  14. The Second-Best Croquet Mallets 183

  15. Speech or Die 192

  16. The Queen’s Wager 205

  17. The Entry Basket 224

  18. A Library Crisis 234

  19. The InterKingdom Tournament 250

  20. The Pepper Pot Duel 260

  21. Making a Name 272

  22. Epilogue 288

CHAPTER ONE

A Delayed Party

INSIDE COCHEM CASTLE, the nameless princess ducked underneath the head table to her self-appointed station. Her place of honor at the table was too far away. She’d waited ten years for this party and couldn’t risk it going off the rails. Sitting on the rushes, with King Oliver’s feet on one side and Queen Sibyl’s on the other, the princess could hear everything.

Above her head, the shiny Golden Parsnip—the badge of his kingly power—hung from her father’s belt.

The princess patted the hidden pocket of her gown. The drawing of her secret weapon, the Cloud of Defense, crinkled reassuringly. Along the back wall, the Cochem archers stood ready for King Oliver’s command.

King Oliver “whispered” in Queen Sibyl’s ear, and the princess smiled. Neither of her parents was any good at whispering. She made out the words with no trouble. King Oliver had to shout to be heard over the courtiers and guests.

“You’re sure about which one needs a name?” King Oliver’s best dancing shoes pivoted towards Queen Sibyl.

Wary of getting pinched, the princess kept an eye on the King’s shoes and reminded herself that parents forgot things. Especially parents with fifteen children and a kingdom to govern. It wasn’t personal. Besides, people without names were hard to remember.

Queen Sibyl stamped her small foot, and her silk skirts rustled. “Yes, of course. She’s the one that put all those goldfish in the moat.”

Mamma had noticed! Training five hundred brilliant-orange goldfish to spell out “NAME ME” had been worth it.

Confident that her parents were on board, the princess slipped under the dessert sluice to check a leaking seam. Keeping things dry was a full-time job with an artificial creek running through the hall. She didn’t mind. As soon as she’d seen a diagram for a gold-panning sluice in a library book, she’d wanted to build one. Gold wasn’t a big deal in Cochem, so they used it for dessert instead.

No one would notice if the guest of honor slipped away for a moment. Her parents had enough to do. The Kingdom’s business took most of their attention, and educating the older Cochem children—the ones who might actually rule one day—took the rest. No one kept track of the youngest child in the family. A long time ago, the princess had decided to make the most of it. Sometimes, it made up for being called “Fifteenth.”

“—a moment ago.”

Even with the Seven Kingdoms partying it up, the end of Queen Sibyl’s sentence carried down to the princess, whose head was now under the other end of the dessert sluice.

“She knows how to take care of herself,” King Oliver’s voice rumbled on. “Handy around the castle too.”

The princess, fishing a wrench out of her hall toolbox, wondered who they were talking about. King Oliver’s sister, Queen Ash? “Handy” didn’t seem right, but the Blackfly Queen definitely took care of herself. The princess frowned. Her favorite wrench for this job was in her workshop in Cochem’s unused dungeon. She’d have to make do with this one.

“I thought the boy with the hair did the goldfish thing.” King Oliver always made a swishing motion over his head to show the boy’s pompadour hairstyle. “You know, Harold number three. But wait—goldfish are quite slippery for a baby, aren’t they? Did the others do such things before they were christened?”

The princess didn’t interrupt. She wanted to know what else they knew about her. Listening was always more useful than talking.

The king and queen tried to sort out their offspring. They got muddled after the seventh and came to a complete stop at number fourteen.

“Let’s start again. We’ve got seven girls,” King Oliver said.

Eight, thought the princess, but she tightened a bolt on the dessert sluice and gave her parents a moment more.

“And seven Harolds,” Queen Sibyl said. “So she must be the fourteenth. But that doesn’t seem right. Oh, how silly! The girl without a name is why we’re here. So what number child does that make her?”

Speaking into the pipe, the nameless princess prompted, “The Fifteenth Child of our house.”

King Oliver said, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything—” Queen Sibyl dropped her voice to a confidential tone, no quieter than King Oliver’s “—you see, the problem is, we forgot about christening this one. Things kept coming up, and now she’s ten.”

“Is that so?” King Oliver got to his feet, and the thump he gave the table made it tremble. He’d never called the hall to order for her before. The nameless princess smiled down at her christening gown. Queen Sibyl knew she was ten years old. This was going better than she’d hoped.

A tiny piece of paper on the rushes caught the princess’s attention. She picked it up and read, “Twyla.”

The other side was blank. She didn’t know anyone called Twyla, but she pocketed the paper for her name collection. Writing “Fifteenth” at the top of school papers got old in a hurry.

“Rose, Marigold, Magenta, Saffron, Indigo . . .” King Oliver ran through the kingdoms present in the hall and sat down again. “The Blackflies aren’t here.” He exhaled in a way that made the princess worry he was finished. “Having the feast before the christening is a good idea. It should give them, maybe five extra hours. That should be enough, even for them, don’t you think?”

At Sibyl number seven’s christening, the Blackfly Kingdom was seven hours late. When the nameless princess heard that story, she adjusted the schedule for her own. She had a lot of practice adjusting things. Taking a better grip on her wrench, she tightened the next bolt.

“If we wait too long, the other guests will leave, and we still won’t have a christening.” Queen Sibyl coughed. “If Cook would at least send up the peppermint tea. My throat is a little dry. And you sound like you might be getting a cold. Are you feeling well enough for a bit of croquet after dinner?”

Croquet? The nameless princess froze, wrench in mid-air. It couldn’t be croquet fever. This year, the whole family had gotten their shots.

“Now there’s an idea.” King Oliver’s heel bounced on the rushes covering the hall’s stone floor. “I’m always well enough for that. We could try the vineyard behind the castle. If the archers stand at the bottom of the rows, they can bowl the balls back up again. While I’m thinking about it, we’re still missing black mallets and croquet balls. We have all the other kingdoms’ colors.”

Not today. The nameless princess set down her wrench and whipped through the crowd towards her royal parents. This couldn’t happen. If the royal guests started knocking balls through wickets, they’d be scattered throughout the Seven Kingdoms before you knew it. It would be the end of the christening.

Her royal parents were losing focus. The princess dove back under the head table to keep tabs on things.

King Oliver called the steward over and ordered some mallets and balls painted black.

“Good idea! The Blackfly family got so annoyed last time when we didn’t have their color.” The hem of Queen Sibyl’s dress went up and down in agreement. She was a vigorous nodder. The feather on top of her dozen-eggs hairstyle must be making a breeze. “Queen Ash is always so quick to feel slighted.”

“It’s their plague-y blackflies, you know. She can’t stand’em.” King Oliver always made excuses for his sister. “I mean—what if blackflies followed you everywhere you went?”

Queen Sibyl shuddered all the way down to her silvery hem. “Dreadful. I’d much rather talk about croquet. How about a quick game with the appetizers?”

Oh no. If only the Blackfly family would show up, blackflies and all. A royal christening couldn’t start until all Seven Kingdoms had arrived.

The princess had to do something. But what?

At that moment, the headwaiter brought the banquet menu for final approval. Queen Sibyl wasn’t wearing her glasses for the party, so King Oliver had to put on his reading glasses. Once they were on his nose, he winced. “With these darn things, I can’t see past the end of my … croquet mallet.”

Considering one desperate plan after another, the princess made her way down the head table to the door. As she passed Harold number one, he bumped her fist with his. “Don’t forget—if you run into your fairy godmother, be cool.”

Sibyl number one called from the middle of the table, “Whatever you do, don’t tell her what to give you.”

“Yeah, just look at Queen Ash,” Harold number three said in the princess’s ear. “We don’t need blackflies in Cochem.”

“No matter what else you have to do, don’t walk away.” Sibyl number six had been caught by her fairy godmother on the way to the royal privy and knew what she was talking about.

Fourteen siblings meant you knew what to expect. The princess was glad she wasn’t an only child, like the Blackfly Prince.

Reaching the hall door, she went out to the stables. The party could start if people thought the Blackfly Kingdom had arrived. She couldn’t pretend to be Queen Ash or King Schwartz, so she’d have to pretend to be Prince Nero. He was about her age. She’d put on black clothes, and no one would know the difference. By now, the guests were too hungry to ask questions.

Once all Seven Kingdoms were present—or appeared to be present—food would be served, and everyone would be happy. The princess couldn’t risk an impromptu croquet tournament. Even if this wasn’t the fever.

She wasn’t much bigger than Harold number seven, the brother closest in age to the princess. No Blackfly horses had arrived in the stables, so the princess tucked up her brocade skirt, put on an old pair of Harold number seven’s black riding pants, and blacked her white Icelandic pony, Númi, with a pot of shoe-polish.

Wrapping herself in black saddle blankets, she tied a black knitted scarf over her light brown hair. She tiptoed barefoot up the spiral stairs to the gallery over the hall, to see if she really had to go through with this.

The silver Cochem banners on the walls gleamed in the torchlight. At her family’s table on the dais, the princess’s fourteen siblings played table hockey with the salt cellar. King Oliver had pushed his chair back as if the feast were over. His reading glasses still rested on his nose. Queen Sibyl swept up salt from the silver-linen tablecloth with her tiny, silver-handled brush and dustpan.

On the main floor of the hall, the seven remaining tables were arranged around the hearth fire like the slanted spokes of a wheel. The christening guests wore the showy colors of their kingdoms so that the hall looked like a silver-striped lollipop. Raspberry-scented Roses, perfumed Daffodils, spicy Marigolds, fluffy Fuchsia, Siberian Iris, and rare black Tulips made a gorgeous, fragrant pinwheel.

Only the dimly lit black Tulips table had no guests. The Blackfly royal family still hadn’t arrived. The princess straightened. If she wanted a name, it was time for action.

On the way down to the hall and the door out to the stables, she tried a new name aloud at each step:

names that main character considers while walking down the stairs

Anything but Sibyl.

All seven of her sisters were named Sibyl. She’d never stand out in that crowd.

A few moments later, she whispered to the royal steward at the door so he’d announce her properly. A Blackfly banner would have helped. Then she mounted Númi, rode through the open portcullis into the feasting hall, and made her pony paw his hooves in the air.

To the assembled crowd, the royal steward roared, “Prince Nero of the Blackfly Kingdom pays his respects to the youngest princess of Cochem.”

The Marigold Kingdom guests clapped their hands onto their ears and shook their heads, frowning. They were jumpy about loud voices.

“Good boy,” the princess added under her breath to Númi. That book about the Spanish Riding School had been worth it. She dismounted, tossed the reins to a waiting stableboy, and accepted a swig of peppermint tea.

The guests from the Magenta Kingdom murmured to each other. “Finally. Now we can eat.”

The Saffron Kingdom crown princess looked up from the saffron booties she was knitting. “Funny. Not as many blackflies as usual. Did they drain their swamp?”

Worrying about the lack of a Blackfly banner, the princess had forgotten about the blackflies. She flashed a disdainful look at the Saffron Kingdom table—as if she really were a Blackfly royal—and held her breath.

At the head table, her parents rose.

“They sent him all alone,” murmured Queen Sibyl, squinting. “How did he ever find us? I heard he has a terrible sense of direction, poor thing.”

“Welcome, Prince Nero!” King Oliver smoothed his thick mustache and beard in a considering way. He took off his reading glasses, and his eyes rested her face.

Uh, oh. She’d been sure he would forget about his reading glasses. He’d recognize her, and the christening would come to an unpleasant end.

But King Oliver unbuckled the Golden Parsnip, held it up high, and called out, “The Seven Kingdoms are here! Let the festivities begin!”

Suddenly dizzy, the princess gripped the nearest table edge. He hadn’t recognized her. Why did she feel so hollow?

She should be happy. He wasn’t supposed to tell the difference between the Blackfly prince and his own daughter. It would have ruined everything. She put up a proud chin, forced a brittle smile and strode off towards the black Tulips.

Queen Sibyl announced the program for the day. “We hope you’ll enjoy the feast. There are seventeen courses, one for each member of the royal family.” The hall exploded into applause, and the queen smiled shyly. She was the only other one in the family who didn’t care for speeches. “Afterwards, there will be the christening—”

The princess was relieved to hear it.

“Then we’ll have jousting, footraces, and that game with the spinning tops. I can never remember what it’s called—” she looked at King Oliver.

His whisper carried throughout the hall, “Carom, it’s called carom.”

“Thank you, dear. You all know what it’s called, so there’s only one more thing to say.” Queen Sibyl spread out her arms. “Let the feast begin!”

The squeak of door hinges made everyone laugh. King Oliver never oiled the hinges for the doors that led to the royal kitchens. He said he wanted to prevent sneak attacks by his fifteen children, but the princess knew better. The sound was an appetizer for the feast.

Squeak, squeak. Squeak, squeak.

A long line of kitchen staff bore trays and trays of marvelous-smelling parsnip fries into the hall. The princess took advantage of the moment to slip under the black Tulips table. Sheltered by the table linen, she unwound herself from the black saddle blankets, wriggled out of Harold number seven’s old riding pants, and took the black knitted scarf off her head. Her brocade skirt was a little crushed, but she was going to get a name.

The princess went the long way around and took her place at the bottom of the head table. She crunched a parsnip fry between her teeth and grinned at her seven sisters, dressed in matching brocade gowns, all talking at top speed.

The four oldest were comparing the fine points of all the Seven Kingdoms’ princes and the three youngest the fine points of desserts to come. Nobody had missed her.

Her favorite course was the first. The parsnips were the perfect reddish-brownish-goldish color and tasted a little sweet and a little salty.

She couldn’t enjoy the other courses properly. Now that she’d gotten away with impersonating the Blackfly prince, she was having second thoughts. What would happen when the real Blackfly prince arrived?

Even though she knew the kitchen doors were the only squeaky ones, she checked the hall entrance every time.

The Blackfly family didn’t show up for the field lettuce salad with toasted walnuts, the crispy potato pancakes with applesauce, the green asparagus with toasted pine nuts and a sprinkling of salt, the fresh spinach salad with strawberries, the buttermilk soup with snippets of chives, or the artichokes you ate by dipping each tiny leaf in lemony-garlic sauce and nibbling off the tender inner edge.

They missed the crispy fried fish, the radish roses in all colors, the potato croquettes with ketchup, the tiny cooking pans for melting Swiss cheese, the cauliflower “trees” with hot, buttered breadcrumbs, the thinly sliced lean roast pork with dumplings and gravy, the baby peas in the pod with tureens to cook them, and the fruit platters glowing with rubies that were really pomegranate seeds.

They didn’t even show up for the tiny cheese wheels covered in red wax.

The feast’s sparkling finale was the princess’s second favorite course. Water wheels and jets propelled miniature boats along sluices all around the hall. Each boat carried one serving of dessert. No one ever remembered she’d made the dessert sluice, but everyone enjoyed it.

When a guest pointed to a cake, pie, torte, or tart they liked, a footman fished out the little boat, blotted off the bottom, and gave it to the guest with a bow. The princess, and her fourteen brothers and sisters, preferred helping themselves.

She had just plucked a kayak with a chocolate cream puff out of the gurgling stream when King Oliver said, “Prince Nero’s not old enough to sign the christening certificate, is he?”

“He was born about the same time as Harold number seven.” Queen Sibyl counted on her fingers. “That makes him eleven, so no, he’s not. Do you think Ash isn’t coming then?”

The princess froze. She knew all Seven Kingdoms had to be present for the christening, but she hadn’t realized they had to sign off. The kayak dropped from her hand back into the sluice, making waves that shipwrecked a dozen cakes. Her fourteen royal brothers and sisters protested, but she paid no attention.

Her boat floated down the sluice, out of reach.

CRAAACK!

The princess spun around. The front doors of the banquet hall banged open, revealing the portcullis, smashed in two. Oops. She should have told the stableboy to leave it open. A cloud of blackflies blew in.

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