Sing a Song of Sixpence

“If I find one more blackbird baked in my pie, I shall burn this entire kingdom to ashes!” the King screamed.

“I do believe that is against the law…your own law,” the Queen replied with a calm, disinterested tone, as she idly poked at her bread and honey.

“Then I shall set myself ablaze!” The King rose abruptly from his seat at the dining table in a dramatic uproar, his breakfast - the said pie - opened up in front of him.

“You mustn’t, Your Majesty!” the court official cried, falling to his knees in a panic, sobbing by the king’s chair.

“Do as you wish, dear.”

“I must see the Queen! Please, Your Majesty!” A frantic voice called from the doorway.

“Let her in,” the Queen commanded with a wave of her hand.

The guards stepped aside as a maid hurried in, her hands trembling with fear. The King stood aghast as another blackbird emerged from his pie and flew away.

“My Queen, it’s the head maid! A blackbird has stolen her nose, and she cannot breathe! I beg you, Your Majesty, help us!”

“What is the meaning of all these damn birds!” The Queen rose from her seat, “Summon the exterminator immediately.”

The Queen exited the dining room, only to find the entire castle in pandemonium.

“My pockets! They keep filling with rye!” A courtesan shrieked as she leaped from a window.

“Come down, you wretched bird!” A guard flailed hopelessly.

“Agghhh!” The court official from the dining hall came barreling down the corridor, his clothes engulfed in flames.

The Queen stood still, momentarily taken aback by the chaos before her. Then, slowly, a smile curled on her lips. At last, her dull and tiresome days had given way to some amusement.

“That sixpence was well spent,” she murmured.