"Corn dear!"The queen exclaimed as Corn entered the throne room.
"We are trying to plan your fifth birthday party and we want it to be perfect. I felt we should have two dozen knights on white horses escort you through the town while singing the new song made just for you. Your father however thinks one dozen is plenty and that singing is ridiculous. I knew of course that you would agree with me that..."

"Horses? They poop all over and stink!" Corn exclaimed. "I want three dozen carriages instead and I want them pulled by the servants. The servants must be dressed in red and the carriages must be gold. I am royalty after all!"

"Dear, be reasonable, that is too much paint and cloth to be wasted. The servants can simply wear their normal clothes" Queen Donnilington reasoned. The King just rolled his eyes.

"No! It must be red and gold or I simply wont have a party!" Corn folded her arms stubbornly and stared unmoving at her mother. She was not one for giving in to others when she knew what she wanted. "The party is still three months away. That is plenty of time to raise the taxes to pay for it."

Having stated her demand Corn turned and walked out of the room. Only then did she let the smug feeling in her show. She would get what she wanted.

Corn woke up the next morning and was immediately aware of how quiet and cold it was. Her fire was usually blazing in the fireplace. The maid would be making quiet noises from the breakfast tray as she set out the morning meal. And her dog Franco was always aware of her awakening, barking for immediate attention. Yet none of these occurred. Corn sat up bleary eyed and looked round. Nothing else looked out of the ordinary. She narrowed her little eyes in annoyance and taking a big breath she yelled for the servants. Nothing happened. She yelled again, this time louder. Still nothing. She couldn't remember ever having been so ill treated! She waited in bed for a half an hour, yelling every minute for service. Did everyone just drop of the face of the earth or something? Corn thought sourly.
Giving up on anyone coming she threw her covers off and swung out of bed, and landed on something strange. It had felt like rough wood, but when she looked down she found she was standing on her dog! No, it couldn't be her dog. He was soft. And yet, she looked closer. It certainly looked like Franco. It creeped her out a little. It was so lifelike, and yet it was as solid as a statue. She picked it up, determining to find out what the meaning of this mean joke was and walked out the room.