The women had stayed up way too late rocking in their chairs outside, absorbing the fresh island-scented air, chatting, and laughing. When the sharp rap sounded on their bedroom door, both of them were tempted to ignore it and stay tucked in bed.

Mo covered her head with the fluffy, light pink, flower petal duvet, refusing to acknowledge the intrusion, so Tess reluctantly got up, donned her turquoise fuzzy slippers, and shuffled over to answer the door. To her surprise, no one was on the other side of the door. A gold-leaf trimmed agenda card was on the floor right outside their room.

Tess picked it up and inspected the elaborate and fancy scrolled font. It appeared that every moment of their day was scheduled, starting in fifteen minutes.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she said to Mo. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

Mo ignored her friend, choosing instead to burrow deeper into the covers. “We need coffee,” Tess said to the intricately hand-painted ceiling.

As if she had somehow summoned it, another rap sounded at the door. This time, when she flung it open, Tess was pleased to discover a housekeeper pushing a cart loaded with a pot of coffee and all of its accoutrements, as well as a generous pile of flaky and delicious-looking breakfast pastries with fresh fruit jams.

“Bless you,” Tess said to the woman, which earned Tess a tentative smile. After confirming that they didn’t need anything else, the woman nodded and quickly left, closing the door behind her.

The delectable scent of coffee was enough to rouse Mo. She bolted upright in the bed with her thick, bright red hair shooting out in impossible-looking directions. “Coffee?” she croaked.

“Yep,” Tess confirmed before she poured them each a cup, doctored them up with cream and sugar, and delivered Mo’s to her in bed.

At the first sip of the steaming brew, Mo’s emerald eyes came to life. Knowing that they were wasting precious time, Tess said, “We are down to about ten minutes to get ready before we are supposed to be downstairs to begin our day.”

It only took Mo a moment to process this. They both scurried as quickly as they could with their coffees in tow, to their separate, luxurious bathrooms. When they emerged and met in the hallway, they discovered that they had both chosen a casual chic look of capri pants and cotton Oxfords. Other than Mo’s loafers and Tess’s strappy sandals, they looked like twins again.

“Nice outfit,” Tess teased her friend, which earned her a light shove on the shoulder.

“We look like we plan out what to wear together, like silly schoolgirls,” Mo decided.

“What’s silly about that?” Tess asked, feigning innocence, but the look of concern that registered on Mo’s face made her turn serious. “I think we look cute.”

“You’re sure?” Mo asked, always willing to trust Tess’s fashion advice over her own.

At Tess’s confident nod, they scurried downstairs––not wanting to be late for the start of their agenda.

When they arrived in the formal sitting room at the appointed time, they met their etiquette and royal protocol instructor, Priscilla. Although Priscilla didn’t appear any older than the ladies, she treated them like children––going so far as to roll her eyes at their ‘appalling’ manners. Tess had attended loads of fancy dinner parties and formal dances, so she knew their trainer was being overly harsh.

Priscilla sat on the edge of her chair with her back perfectly straight. When she demanded that Mo do the same, the woman asked why the chair had a back if she wasn’t permitted to use it. Her complaint earned her a sharp look from their teacher. Giving in, Mo sat up straight and tried to lift her spine from her core, as she was being instructed, even though it was incredibly uncomfortable.

When Priscilla gave their summery outfits a quick perusal, she informed them sternly, “If you two intend to be accepted by the royal family, you’ll need to wear much more modest and classic attire.” Tilting her pointer finger up and down in Mo’s direction, she said primly, “We do not show any cleavage or too much leg. We don’t wear form-fitting clothing or clanging jewelry, and we do not ever expose our knees or shoulders.”

It seemed that Priscilla didn’t like the way they sat, stood, dressed, walked, talked, or even breathed. She was particularly hard on Mo, informing her that royals are not mouth-breathers. When Mo closed her mouth, as requested, the books she had been balancing on her head fell. “This is impossible,” Mo whined, but Priscilla didn’t ease up in the slightest.

By the time the silver tray of tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off, scones, cookies, and tea was presented to them, the girls were exhausted and famished. Mo quickly shoved an entire lemon cookie into her mouth. At Priscilla’s shocked look, she said around her mouthful of food, “What? They’re small.”

In an obvious snit, Priscilla removed the linen napkin from her lap, tossed it onto the table, and announced that they were ‘hopeless’ before storming off in a huff.

“Good… More for us,” Mo said around another cookie as soon as the woman was out of earshot.

Now that she was gone, both women dug into the fancy treats with vigor. “Who would have guessed that being proper, polite, and polished would be so grueling?” Tess asked. She would have assumed that she was already all three, but apparently even she wasn’t up to royal standards.

Once they had downed a couple of platefuls of food and two cups of English Breakfast tea each, they sat back in their chairs and relaxed.

Mo seized the moment to chastise Tess for slouching. Using a high-pitched voice to mimic Priscilla’s shrill tone, she said, “Spines are meant to be straight. We are not monkeys. Crossing our legs is frowned upon, but if you must, it should be at the ankle only.”

Shaking her pointer finger as she spoke, Mo did a spot-on impression of Priscilla. Tess giggled and joined in. Sucking in a deep breath as if she were shocked, she lifted Mo’s hand and said, “Those fingernails! We do not bite our nails, Ms. O’Malley. Were you raised by wolves?!?”

Mo cackled because the ridiculous impression wasn’t that much of an exaggeration. Fanning herself prissily with her hand, Mo said, “These lips are too pure to curse, but if they weren’t, I would pull this stick out of my behind and tell you two where to insert it!”

Mo guffawed with laughter at her impression of the hoity-toity woman, and failed to notice that Tess had stopped laughing and was bugging her eyes out at something over Mo’s shoulder. Oblivious to Tess’s silent message, she went on mocking Priscilla.

Scrunching up her nose in mock distaste, Mo did a perfect impression of how Priscilla had reacted to the perfume she had purchased especially for this trip. “What is that god-awful smell?” She fanned herself, just like the other woman had. “Is it my armpits,” she ad-libbed as she pretended to sniff under her arm.

Mo was cackling at that when she finally realized that Tess was no longer laughing with her. Mo’s face fell as realization sank in. “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?”

At Tess’s nod, the blood drained out of Mo’s face, leaving her pale and ashamed. Her first instinct was to apologize for making fun of the other woman, but everything she had said was accurate.

In a crisp, curt tone, Priscilla said, “If you’re finished mocking me, it’s time to continue with your much-needed lessons.”

Feeling like heels and knowing they were in for a double dose of mean, the ladies nodded their heads, ready to accept whatever punishment Priscilla planned to dole out.