“Oh, woe!” the princess bewailed her new lot in life.
Although she had inherent difficulties at the palace convincing any one of her true identity, the beauty spot and crown got her a foot at the door.
Puzzling over the crown, which did look familiar, lady Constance decided to put the toad to the test.
“If you are truly are the princess,” she began, “tell me where you have a bona fide wart, not that counterfeit beauty spot.”
“That one is easy, it’s on the back of my head hidden by all my hair.”
A palace maid snickered. “So that’s why she’d never let us style her hair in two braids in back.”
Dorinda glared a toady glare.
“What was your nickname as a toddler,” pressed Constance.
Dorinda sighed testily and tried and rolled her eyes.
“When I was really little, friends called me “Toady” because I had a wart on the back of my head. But then they dropped it when we were older because they realized I wasn’t a toady at all,” she snapped. “Is that, like, enough?”
Lady Constance’s final question confirmed Dorinda’s status. When her iPhone had mysteriously disappeared some weeks before Dorinda confessed the truth to her companion who now played her trump card: what actually happened to your iPhone.
Properly, Dorinda had the good grace to blush.
“By mistake I accidentally, like, dropped it in the commode,” she owned up.
H’m this seems like a conspicuous pattern of dropping things in the water.
The palace took her in, but no one, not even faithful Constance wanted to touch her. After all, her skin was rough, warty, and repulsive.
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