Chapter 9.
What Would a Princess Do?
The winter days grew shorter and so chilly that Sarah became stiffer and more tired every day.
Becky was faring no better.
"'If it weren't for you, miss,' she said one morning before they began their day.
"'The prisoner in the next cell.
I think I should die.'
And with that, the girls set off downstairs to do their drudge work.
Sarah had to accomplish many things that day and because the cook had been in an awful mood that morning, it seemed she would have to do them on an empty stomach.
The streets were soaked in a damp, cold mist, and Sarah's raggedy clothes were quickly wet right through to the skin.
The icy cold water went squish in her holy shoes and the wind seemed to cut like a knife through her outgrown flimsy jacket.
Oh, Becky, she thought.
Perhaps I might die today as well.
Suddenly, Sarah saw a shiny object just beneath her feet in the muddy gutter.
Bending down to take a closer look, she saw that it was really a few coins.
They had probably fallen out of a hole in someone's pocket.
She scooped them up with her cold, reddened hands.
Oh, she gasped.
It is true.
Just down the street was a bakery in which a cheerful, stout woman was putting a tray of delicious newly baked hot buns in a lit-up window.
More than anything, Sarah wanted to take the coins and buy some fresh buns.
Doing some math in her head, she might be able to pay for as many as four.
But then she frowned.
She felt that it was wrong to use money that someone else had lost and might need.
She looked around for someone to ask about the money, but there was nobody.
And so she decided that she would at least ask the woman in the bakery if she had lost it.
The woman looked at Sarah strangely.
Bless us, no, she answered.
Did you find it?
Yes, Sarah said, in the gutter.
Well, then, keep it, said the woman.
It's a busy street.
You'll never find out who lost it.
I know, Sarah said, but I thought I would just ask you.
Not many would, the woman said, looking at Sarah with respect.
Do you want to buy something?
Yes, thank you, Sarah said.
Four buns, if you please.
The woman could see that Sarah was staring at the buns with hunger, as though she could eat one hundred in one big bite, so she kindly put six buns in the bag instead of four.
Oh, Sarah said, looking into the bag and noticing the mistake.
I said four, if you please.
I can only pay for four.
I threw in two for free, the woman said.
A baker's half dozen.
I dare say you will be able to eat them all.
Aren't you hungry?
A mist rose before Sarah's eyes.
I am very hungry.
Thank you so much.
On her way out of the bakery, however, something, or rather someone, stopped Sarah in her tracks.
It was a little figure, more pitiful even than herself, a figure that was not much more than a bundle of rags from which small bare, muddy red feet peeped out, because her rags were not long enough to cover them.
Above the rags, Sarah could see a dirty face with big saucer-like, hungry eyes and a head of tangled hair that made her look like a wild animal.
This girl, Sarah thought, is even worse off than I am.
As Sarah came near, the little girl turned her head away, as though Sarah was going to yell at her or shoo her out of the way, like everyone else did.
Are you hungry?
Sarah asked.
The little girl looked up in surprise.
I am, she said.
She told Sarah that she had not eaten in days.
Sarah couldn't believe she was going to do what she was about to do.
But after all, she thought, what would a princess do?
She reached into her bag, took out one of the buns, and gave it to the other little girl.
The girl sat up straight, then grabbed it and crammed it into her mouth in one big wolfish bite.
Oh my, Sarah heard her say in wild delight, oh my, oh my.
With shaking hands, Sarah took out three more buns and handed them over, only to watch them be devoured in the same way.
She thought she might faint when she handed over the fifth bun but, tightly clutching her one last bun, Sarah managed to be strong enough to turn and walk away.
The little London beggar behind her was still gobbling up the buns.
She was too intent on eating to thank Sarah, but Sarah didn't mind.
Meanwhile, from the bakery window, the woman couldn't believe her eyes.
Why, I never, she exclaimed.
That young woman gave her buns to a beggar child, and not because she wasn't starving herself either.
I could see that much in her eyes.
She opened the door to her shop and called down to the little beggar child to come up.
Did that young woman give you her buns?
She asked her in the shop.
The beggar child nodded.
How many?
Five, the child said.
The woman looked back at the road where Sarah had been standing, feeling very heartsick.
I wish she hadn't disappeared so quickly, she said.
If only I had given her a dozen buns.
She turned to the beggar child who was still standing before her.
Are you still hungry? she said.
Like always, was the answer.
Well, come on in and warm yourself, the woman said.
Although a poor working woman herself, she offered to help the girl out of pity for Sarah.
Whenever you're cold and hungry, you can come inside, you hear?
It's the least I can do for that young girl's sake.
Almost back at the school, her cold bun clutched tightly in her hand.
Sarah paused for a second before the large house.
The front door was open and suitcases were being carried out.
Someone was going on a journey.
Mr. Large kissed his wife in the doorway and then walked down the stairs to his waiting carriage.
Will Moscow be covered with snow?
One of his children called after him.
Will you meet the Tsar?
I'll write and tell you all about it, Mr. Large called back with a good-natured laugh.
Good night, duckies.
God bless you.
At that moment, Guy Clarence appeared in the doorway.
If you find the little girl, he shouted, give her our love.
Mr. Large got into his carriage and the front door closed.
I wonder who the little girl is, Sarah thought, that he is going to look for so earnestly.
And then, lugging her heavy basket, she too went inside and shut the door.
She, of course, had no clue that she was the mystery who, the little lost daughter of Captain Crew.
