Author’s Note: Dedicated to Princess Myriam, from merchant’s daughter Kat. Someday, I hope we’ll get along.

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Once upon a time, in a small kingdom, now long lost in the mists of time and history, a merchant’s daughter was born, the first in a dying branch of minor nobility. Such an event was heralded with great joy and gladness by her family, but others cared not, nor did the family mind. What did it matter, in the long run? They had their daughter and they loved her very much.

A year slipped away in the streams of time and a princess was born to the royal house, the first in many years. Such an event was lauded throughout the land and many rejoiced, as they ought, and a great celebration was held for all.

Time went by, as it must do in all lands and the girls grew apace. The merchant’s daughter grew into a free and easy girl, liking all, loving most and wore her heart on her sleeve for all to see along with her glowing brown face and rosy cheeks. Many loved her in return, and she returned it with interest, giving much time and friendship to them. She could often be seen, bustling on errands for her mother, small siblings in tow, or in the town square, laughing and joking with passersby as she sold her family’s wares. The princess grew into a reserved maiden, pensive and pale with golden hair and few friends. Her day was curtailed by many responsibilities and cares, leaving little time for herself and less for others. However, her weaving was of great repute, and her lace had no rival, bringing her fame from many leagues outside the country. Few had seen her apart from aristocrats, and few of the people cared about her, supposing that the princess had all that could be desired, forgetting the grand feast of years ago in the appetites of the day. But some loved her dearly, or so it seemed from the outside. Is not the outside all we see?

Now, the queen, seeing a change in her daughter, set out to find others who would teach her daughter about the world and the more common folk that she would someday rule. Yet they too must have some royal blood, for the queen could not endure the coarser folk that lived about them. No, such a one would not do. The girl must be common, but not too common, slightly cultured and pretty, but not overshadowing in any way, and she must be aware of the great privilege and responsibility given unto her. Verily, such a one was hard to find!

So it was that the merchant’s line was traced back into the records, and it was found that they were distant cousins of the family royal. The queen rejoiced, for they had a daughter, who was surely amiable and fit to be a companion to her beloved child. The princess agreed, slightly reluctant, but willing and wanting to please her mother. And so, plans were set in motion to bring the merchant’s daughter to the castle to meet the young princess.

The merchant’s daughter was slightly apprehensive, but excited to meet a new person, particularly one so lauded as a great example to all women of the realm. Her family, however, had doubts long harbored against the royal family due to a long history of diseases of the mind, something her father’s brother had studied for many years. ‘Twas whispered about that the princess shared such things. But, they had confidence in their girl and knew she had a mind of her own, so they permitted the meeting to take place. For how does one say no to the queen? Besides, market rumors are as airy as the land breeze, and just as reliable.

Over the course of the visit, the merchant’s daughter grew uneasy. Sure, it was an elegant lifestyle, and all were kind, but it was not for her. Too many people trying to do perfectly ordinary things for her and looking alarmed when she did them herself! Not enough smiles! Too much cushioning and comfort! Not enough food, or the right sort of food! Too much of useless things! She missed the breezy ways of the market, where one could say what they liked and do what one would without any being at odds with them, the noise and bustle of home life, the friendly faces of the market, the many siblings and pets, not to mention her parents! And so, she pined for home and displayed a queer, uncomfortable side about herself that did not endear her to the court.

The princess, for her part, viewed the strange girl with amusement first, then discomfort. What could she learn from such a girl, a girl who was coarse enough to place her elbows on the table, who did her own stays—which she called ‘corsets’ (such a vulgar term!)—who tried to joke with all, and said exactly what she thought, regardless of the situation? Who knew nothing of diplomacy, and laughed when she tried to hint that the girl really needed it? She had no culture, no grace or skill in the feminine arts, and would not learn, informing the princess that such things did not suit her or her place in the world. Though this was true, the princess thought that she should have known better than to correct her, then wondered if she was unreasonable, and so it went in such a fashion that she too, displayed a queer side to the little merchant’s girl and the discomfort was mutual.

So it was that they both returned to the daily side of life in an unsettled frame of mind. The merchant’s daughter thought that the princess was “good, but too aristocratic for anything except to be a china ornament”. The princess wondered how on earth most people managed to live in such a way. Neither liked the other and both had a poor opinion about each others’ class.

Soon afterwards, the Royal patronage was withdrawn from the merchant’s family and given to another. However, the parents could read between the lines, and they knew it twas not the girl’s fault. The father had for years supported the rising opposition against the nobles and the mother knew that the goods had been handled poorly in the past. Yet a surge of trade from the countryfolk made it up nicely, and the family never wanted for anything.

The noble family continued ruling, more wisely than not, sometimes foolishly taxing the people, other times letting them off free, but mostly a steady, even rule. The king knew what to do, sometimes not when, but the people were pleased with him and the land prospered.

The merchant’s daughter grew into a comely woman with a happy home. She had married the baker’s son early on and had been the picture of a happy housewife ever since. In time, her own flock of small ones surrounded her and the neighbors had naught to say but good of the children, a few of the boys—young rascals!—excepted as they normally are. Her household admired her and the maids never whispered or brought scandal to her door. Her husband loved her, encouraged her own projects and every Sunday the two of them could be heard in the parish choir. She managed the business with him, and they did well for themselves, never forgetting those less lucky, but still regarding the nobility with an icy eye.

The princess married the neighboring king’s son and grew into her position as queen gracefully. The land had been mismanaged for decades, people leaving, taxes unmanageable and the rulers capricious and cruel. But she and her husband, with much work, began to bring back the better times, slowly, but with gathering momentum. The land responded well, and happy times began to blossom once more. She had two sons and a daughter, graceful as her mother and with just a sense of duty which her mother was very proud of. Their family held themselves aloof from most, but ruled wisely and were admired long after the baker’s wife had passed into the mists of time and the fog of memory.

And so, dear reader, after seeing these two young maidens grow into their separate lives, I would like to ask you this question.

Which was happiest?