As soon as the queen awakens, she is presented with both the morning’s news and with pressing problems to solve.
With coffee in hand, she waves in the first child; who requests a ride to the grocery store for “pizza dough so we can make pizza for lunch, there’s pizza sauce in the pantry.”
The Queen rarely wishes to give rides, so she demands the child to make his own dough. He leaves, satisfied with her ruling.
The next child is welcomed. She hands the Queen a folded up piece of notepaper, with a tragic expression written (not just on the *said paper*) but also upon her pretty face.
After reading the note, the Queen Mother is not surprised to be encouraged to write back, “now”. The child will wait.
The Queen has never hired a scribe, as she takes pleasure in writing all her own notes.
Thus begins a rather lengthy discussion, involving tears (on the child’s part) and gallant stifled amusement (on the Queen’s part). They share possible solutions, reminders of past times, comforting AND uncomfortable truths, and a baring of souls. Finally, seeing no end in sight and feeling that she had reached the end of her resources, (and also rather hungry for breakfast), The Queen eventually makes a proclamation:
“I have said all I can say on this topic. The rest is up to you, child. Life is full of times that are less than ideal to our personal wants and wishes, and we must all figure out life’s riddle; how to make do with Plan B.”
There was no applause. So she sent them away from her presence. By this time she had also been back and forth from the kitchen several times to help the dough-making-boy, and it was time to dress in her royal garments.