Charlotte sat in the town square, savored a delicious slice of apple-gruyère pie, and calmly watched the chaos playing out before her. Two automobiles raced by, containing a strange collection of characters: a strangely and scandalously dressed woman, a small friar, a man dressed all in white, a man dressed all in black, and a completely bald man with a very attractive mustache. Smoke filled the air and there was a great deal of commotion, with locals scattering in every direction to avoid being killed. Charlotte was entirely unfazed by this gong show. She hadn't eaten in days, her pie was quite scrumptious, and furthermore, she was beyond exhausted.
She licked her plate clean and went about looking for more Carpanian delicacies. As she strolled through the city, picking up some creme brulee here, a grilled cheese sandwich there, she was contemplating her next move. Eating free food on the streets of Carpania was all very well, but somehow she had to earn some money so that she could return home. She could . . . be a waitress? Charlotte shuddered at the thought. Farm laborer? Cow milker? Street sweeper? Flower vendor? The more she walked, the more she realized that, well, she was Charlotte, not some common flower girl. The weeks of rough living had taken its toll on her psychological well-being. She would get money the way any noblewoman would: she would clean herself up a bit and present herself to someone in her social set living in the area. Any nobleperson would surely recognize her and come to her aid.
Charlotte walked out of town and into the surrounding countryside. She took an efficient, non-luxurious bath in an obliging pond, combed her fingers through her hair, straightened her trademark red bow, and smiled hopefully at her reflection in the pond. "Eeeh," she said, flinching at what she saw.
"Eeeh, indeed," said an arrogant, masculine voice. Charlotte turned to find a man on horseback looking down at her. Before Charlotte could explain, she was being arrested for trespassing or something.
*********
Meanwhile, Jean-Pierre, Don Felipe Rigoberto Guapisimo, and Beady had made fast tracks to Potsdorf in pursuit of Charlotte. They too were side tracked by some delicious pie.
"This hyar pie is simply RIDICULOUS! Fry mah hide! ah mean, ah cain't remember th' last time ah ate pie of this hyar caliber," said Jean-Pierre as he polished off a piece of Ned's Four-berry Pie.
"Eet reeeeeally is mahgneeeeefeeecent, eeezn't eeeet?" purred Don Felipe Rigoberto Guapisimo as he had another bite of the Strawberry Chocolate Oasis Pie.
Beady said nothing; he was a cabin boy of very few words. But he was quite enjoying his Twin Peaks Double R Diner Cherry Pie.
They finished their pie just as Prince Hapnik proceeded through the square, soaking in the wild cheers of the peasants. The square was in chaos and confetti filled the air. However, Jean-Pierre was sharp, and he did not fail to notice, among all the chaos, a flash of blond hair and a red bow in the back of a carriage on the other side of the square that was headed toward the jail. Quickly, he pointed it out to his companions and they began to push their way across the square. However, the crowds were packed tightly and Jean-Pierre, Don Felipe Rigoberto Guapisimo and Beady found themselves completely stuck, sandwiched in by the crowds and being covered by confetti.
"No matter, comrades. This hyar party won't last fo'evah. At least we knows whar she's gwine now an' we kin ketch up t'her! Fry mah hide!"
******************
Charlotte was highly irritated, but as she was being booked, she requested that a short message be sent to a local noblewoman who she considered to be a friend. The message read as follows: "Dear Lady Margrit de Walbroia: This is your darling friend Charlotte. I have been thrown in the local jail for an offense of which I am wholly and entirely innocent. Please send assistance at your earliest possible convenience. Very truly yours, Charlotte."
Charlotte did not have to sit in jail very long at all. A servant of Lady Margrit de Walbroia soon surfaced and posted bail. After a long carriage ride out to Lady Margrit de Walbroia's estate, Charlotte soon found herself taking tea with Lady Margrit de Walbroia in a quaint gazebo overlooking a sparkling lake. Charlotte and Lady Margrit de Walbroia had been childhood friends and they had much to discuss. Charlotte told Lady Margrit de Walbroia all about the last few weeks--receiving a tender missive from the manly-man-man jaunty fellow from the stables, being kidnapped by pirates, being stranded on a deserted island with a cabin boy and a chihuahua, being imprisoned by an old woman, nearly being married to a peglegged pirate, being reunited--all soap-opera like--with a former suitor, being kidnapped by the impressive clergyman, and then eating apple-gruyère pie in the Carpanian square before being arrested for trespassing or something.
"Or perhaps it was because I was bathing in the lake. Really, people are SO prudish around here." Charlotte had intended it to be a light-hearted comment, but Lady Margrit de Walbroia did not seem to feel light-hearted at all. She was looking, quite fixedly at her plate, her eyes wide, her face flushed.
"Is something wrong, Lady Margrit de Walbroia?"
"I'm surry. I joost need tu clereeffy sumetheeng . . . deed yuoo sey Jeun-Peeerre-a? A hundsume-a gentlemun veet a joonty beret? Und a joonty moosteche-a? Und joonty goons?"
"Uh, well, I don't remember saying anything about the beret, or the mustache, or the guns. But since you seem to know about that jaunty assortment of characteristics, I'm guessing you sort of know Jean-Pierre. Am I correct?"
Lady Margrit de Walbroia nodded slowly, her eyes brimming with tears . . .
