Trifle
It had been twenty years since Lady Enid had baked a cake; she hoped she hadn’t lost her magic touch. After all, it wasn’t every day that royalty visited. Enid had of course heard the gossip that the king was penniless and living on the hospitality of his lords, but such things scarcely mattered to her. She had seen the king’s three daughters when the royal caravan had arrived the night before. Wouldn’t a princess make a fine daughter-in-law?
Although it was not yet dawn, the kitchens were already hot and full of bustling workers too busy to notice her. Or perhaps they didn’t recognize her in her plainest dress and apron. She found a small space at a worktable between a thick-armed woman kneading bread and a maid who seemed more interested in the young squire carrying in firewood
