Let us take a trip to a much happier story than the one of Little John I last told. Of course, this means we must head back to the Witch Hazel’s cottage—incidentally called Butterbrick Cottage.
Why is it called Butterbrick, you ask?
Well, that is because their sweet Jersey cow made the most fabulous sweet cream butter, which Pearl would store in crocks all throughout the year. This butter was of such high quality that it aged beautifully, becoming—over time—the most delicious butter you could ever imagine.
These days, the butter you find in little boxes at the store, with its pale, lifeless yellow color, does not even begin to compare. Pearl would sell her butter in tidy little bricks from the front step of the cottage—bright, rich, deep yellow, and tasting like heaven itself. And so, the cottage came to be known as Butterbrick. The name may not come from an exciting tale, but I imagine you wish you could have tasted some of that butter.
At Butterbrick Cottage, we find Pearl busy at work. She is quite a sight—with her blackened apron, disheveled hair, and rug beater in hand—it is hard to remember she is of royal heritage.
One thing I admire about Pearl is that she is not afraid to get her hands dirty with a good, honest day’s work.
For now, Pearl has been cleaning the cottage since sunrise, preparing it for Hazel’s return. The Witch Hazel has been away on a long journey, collecting a rare healing herb in full harvest on the far side of the kingdom, in the Numinous Mountain range.
This herb—known as Dragon’s Tongue—is found only in that region and can be gathered just once every seven years, and only at precisely the right time.
Healing herbs can be rather persnickety, requiring careful gathering and storage to preserve their properties. Dragon’s Tongue is even fussier—its harvest window both brief and long in coming.
To make matters worse, it is dangerous work.
The dragons adore it.
The petals and stamen are sweet, and if eaten in large quantities, will send them into the most pleasant delirium. They hoard the flowers and guard them fiercely. One can always tell when a dragon has indulged, for its tongue will be stained a brilliant blue.
Fortunately, a dragon in such a state can be persuaded to do almost anything.
Some say gold and treasure are a dragon’s weakness. I say it is Dragon’s Tongue. The former makes them greedy and mean—the latter, giddy and nearly tame.
I should also tell you that Dragon’s Tongue makes a most beautiful dye. However, it requires such a great quantity to color even a single garment that it is a hue reserved only for royalty. In this kingdom, the blue and orange of Dragon’s Tongue belong to the King and his family, and no one else may wear those colors together.
The journey to the Numinous Mountains is long, and the work is hard. Hazel had been gone a fortnight when one of her doves arrived at Butterbrick Cottage with a message for Pearl: she would return home on the evening of Saturn’s Day.
Pearl knew Hazel would be tired and worn from her travels. She wanted to ease her return by having Butterbrick in perfect order. It was one small way to show her kind and faithful aunt how deeply she was loved.
But Pearl had more planned than a tidy cottage.
She knew the most loving thing she could do for Hazel was to tend to her tired, aching feet (and Hazel, you should know, was not a small woman—her feet complained loudly about it).
If we could peer into the deepest part of Pearl’s heart, we would discover this was the one task she dreaded most—even more than mucking out the pig pen.
I think any child her age—boy or girl—might recoil at the sight of the Witch Hazel’s old, worn feet. They were the one part of Hazel—aside from her wrinkled face, crooked nose, knobby hands, and crackling voice—that truly lived up to the title of witch.
Nay… they went well beyond witch and into hag territory.
I will spare you a detailed description—it would be too disrespectful. But if you imagine your own grandmother’s cracked, weathered feet… and then add a generous helping of “Old Hag,” you will have some idea.
Now tell me honestly—would you want to wash those feet?
Neither did Pearl.
And yet, this is where the weeds are separated from the flowers.
Pearl was a true princess.
Despite her dread, she knew how much this small act meant to her aunt. And so, she did it anyway. Not only did she do it—she did it with joy.
Pearl understood something many do not: that Hazel gave much to the world and received very little in return. Who was there to care for her? Who was there to love her?
No one… except Pearl.
So, like the daughter of a true king, Pearl held her head high, smiled her sweetest and most genuine smile, sang a gentle melody, and washed the Witch Hazel’s weary feet without a hint of complaint.
That, my friends, is a true princess.
And a true prince would do the same.
As you can see, true love is a testing pursuit—and our Pearl is passing the test beautifully.
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