Once upon a time

There was a princess.
And she was not particularly beautiful, or particularly wise.
She had a decent memory, which helped in studies, but her handwriting was atrocious.
Her tutors despaired of her.
She fell off horses during riding lessons, and was forever hitting trees, not targets, in archery.
Her riding and shooting instructors despaired of her.
She spilled tea while pouring, and occasionally even missed her seat and fell during etiquette.
Her governesses despaired of her.
(Especially when all that could be seen of her was a rumpled heap of giggling, wiggling petticoats.)

But no one could stay annoyed with the princess for very long.
Because she was good tempered, even when scolded.
And it was obvious that she did try, despite her failures.
And all the lower servants adored her, even as they swept up cup after broken cup.
Because she made up for her mishaps by graceful apologies and bribes of sweet things from her pockets.

And after all the failed lessons and patiently shaken heads, she would curtsy and then waltz out of the room.
Carefully, hand over hand on the railing, she would make her way upstairs.
And there she would perch on her papa's knee and listen to him administer importance to the kingdom.

Occasionally, after the last subject bowed out and away from the Royal Presences, the princess would pat her papa's face.
"What do you see out the window?" she would ask.
When she first lisped the question, at age three, no one thought anything of it, because she was too short to see outside.
As the years went on, it became a pet game between the two of them.
"I see the trees bowing to each other before a promenade," the king might say, smiling.
Or "I see the clouds playing at hide-and-go-seek with the sun."
On particularly challenging days of work, the king might growl, "I see a hawk about to devour a pigeon. Take that, insolent wretch!"
(For a king must always be courteous when administering justice to his court, but what he thinks in his private time is his own.)

As the years went farther on into the future, the princess was given a highly embroidered chair of her own, next to his.
(Only hers had cushioned arms so she couldn't fall out, as she was prone to doing.)
The court came to welcome the days when her little head nodded wisely next to her papa's shoulder.
The king grew quicker to mercy, and his justice was administered more thoughtfully, as she nodded approval at his side.
And there were gradually less days of diving hawks, and more of playing clouds and promenading trees.

The End.