After supper, King Morton peremptorily ordered Dorinda to set up Arthur in the Gold Room. Velvet carpeted the floor; silk blanketed the bed. Arthur could tell he was going to relish his palace stay.
The next morning during a substantial breakfast of sturgeon roe omelet, King Morton graciously insisted that Arthur stay at least a week.
Dorinda groaned. Glancing down, she noticed Arthur’s hind leg inadvertently touching her omelet.
“Ew,” she cried, sweeping him from her plate and accidentally hurling him against the wall.
“Ow!” grunted Arthur.
“Oops! I do believe I’ve broken your leg. I’m so sorry,” Dorinda feigned. “Wish I had broken more than just your leg,” she muttered.
Fortunately for Arthur, the palace vet knew how to set broken frog legs.
“Because frogs are slow healers, however, it looks as if it will be a lengthy convalescence,” he informed King Morton and his daughter. “He will have to stay in the infirmary for a month at least.”
“What rotten luck!” Dorinda thought to herself. Not only was he going to stick around, but her father insisted she bring to him all his meals.
“Do whatever you can to make him comfortable while he’s recumbent,” King Morton ordered.
“Cool,” she cooed, while secretly wondering how to escape infirmary duty. She may have to treat this slime-ball royally, but she knew how to make herself a royal pain.
“Offer to read him some stories of his choice from the palace library,” the king added.
Not wanting to miss a propitious opportunity, Arthur first selected an Aesop fable about a woodsman and a serpent. Secretly Arthur hoped Dorinda would gain something from this apropos story about ingratitude.
Dorinda then began the tale.
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