'The Princess and the Frog' told by Nanny Piggins

Nanny Piggins tells an educational story about the dangers of birthday presents for royal princesses and the dubious integrity of some frogs.

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to Bedtime Stories with R.A. Spratt. Today's story is...

The Princess and the Frog

as told by Nanny Piggins

It was late in the Green house. The children should have been in bed hours ago. But Nanny Piggins had got it into her head that she wanted to try a new chocolate cake recipe. It had suddenly occurred to her at breakfast that chocolate cake might be even better if you added more chocolate. So they had spent the entire day experimenting. Trying to see how far they could push the chocolate to cake ratio, before the cake passed from being chocolate cake into being chocolate containing cake crumbs. They tried several hundred variations and rigorously tested (eaten) all of them. But they were still no closer to having a definitive answer, possibly because they had consumed so much sugar it had become very hard to think.

They were at this moment waiting for their latest creation to bake in the oven. Nanny Piggins was not good at waiting. ‘Do we have to bake it?’ she asked. ‘Couldn’t we just eat the batter?’

‘It’s only going to take ten more minutes,’ said Derrick.

‘Well what are we going to do for ten whole minutes?’ wailed Nanny Piggins.

‘Ten minutes isn’t that long,’ said Samantha reasonably.

‘It is for a pig,’ said Nanny Piggins.

This confused Michael. ‘But isn’t ten minutes ten minutes for everyone.’

‘No, not at all,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Time slows down for pigs when they are waiting for cake, or their favourite TV show. It becomes unbearably slow and impossible to endure.’

‘Like a maths class,’ said Michael with great understanding.

‘Exactly,’ said Nanny Piggins. She’d never been taught maths herself, but it soundly like an unbearable torture, almost as bad as not eating cake.’

‘Why don’t you tell use a story to take your mind off it,’ suggested Derrick.

‘Yes, please,’ said Samantha. They all loved Nanny Piggins stories.

‘Hmm,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I suppose that might take my mind over my overwhelming urge to rip open the oven door and plunge my face into the delicious chocolatey batter. At least for a few minutes.’

‘Oh good,’ said Michael.

‘Once upon a time there was a Princess,’ began Nanny Piggins. ‘She was so beautiful on the outside, her hair was so blonde, her face was so symmetrical, her eyes were so sparkly it was positively nauseating. Just looking at her made you want to vomit!’

‘That’s a bit harsh, Nanny Piggins,’ said Derrick.

‘Oh I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘As an incredibly beautiful person myself, it pains me to have to speak negatively about a fellow stunning fabulous beauty. But it is wrong to lie. And flawed characters make for much more interesting stories. So this Princess’s flaw was that she was so perfectly beautiful it was unbearable. Except of course for her parents. It is so often the way, if someone is insufferable, the only two people in the world not to notice are that person own two parents.’

‘Our father doesn’t feel that way about us,’ said Samantha sadly.

‘No, your father is a special case,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘But you have barely any flaws. Not since I arrived and started raising you properly as a pig should be raised.’

‘But we’re not pigs,’ said Michael.

‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But I try to overlook that, and not hold it against you.’

She patted Michael’s hand kindly and went back to eating her chocolate mousse.

‘But what about the story?’ asked Derrick.

‘What story?’ snapped Nanny Piggins. She didn’t like to be disturbed when she was eating, but she was so often eating, sometimes it had to be done.

‘You were telling us a story about an annoyingly beautiful princess,’

‘Oh yes,’ rememberd Nanny Piggins. ‘And deluded parents. And that was indeed the case here, the King and Queen were so enamoured with their daughter’s beauty and sweetness and good manners they gave her everything.’

‘Everything?’ asked Michael. He liked the idea of parents that would give him whatever candy he liked.

 ‘Literally everything,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Everything they could think of ever getting for her she was showered with. When she was a little girl it was dollies and ribbons and new dresses. When she was older it beach holidays and jewelry and bigger new dresses, and a men to carry her in a special chair when her legs were too beautiful to walk on.

But by the time she came of age, they struck a problem, they had given her absolutely everything they could think of. Each year when her birthday came around they were really scratching their heads trying to think of something new. I mean how many solid platinum, diamond studded hair dryers does one 18 year old need? 

She already had six convertible sports cars, ten ponies, one in each shade to so she could match her pony to her mood and dress made of silk that came from silk worms who had been force fed rubies. 

The girl had everything. So when her 19 birthday came around they were stuck, what were they going to give her. Also, the royal coffers were a little low. It costs a lot feeding 10 polo ponies and silk worms that only eat precious stones. 

Plus the king had a problem, he’d lost a billion dollars down the back of the couch and he didn’t have the courage to confront the cleaner and ask if she’d stolen it. It was actually still down the back of the couch, but he had had such a sheltered life, he didn’t know how to remove the sofa cushions to check. He thought only a fully qualified cleaner could perform such a task. 

Anyway, he and the Queen had to get their daughter a present and they didn’t know what to do. 

Then the King had a brilliant idea. He’d give his daughter the same present he was given when he turned 19. So he went down to his present room.

‘A present room?’ asked Derrick.

‘Yes, he had a special room in the palace,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘It was 50 metres by 50 metres, as big as a football stadium and it was packed to the ceiling with all the gifts he had ever been given by his own parents, by kings and queens visiting from other countries, by ambitious parents trying to get him to marry their daughters. 

He’d received tens of thousands of gifts in his life time. They had all be dutifully catalogued by the gift guardian. So the King simply went to the ailse dedicated to presents given to him in his 19 year, found the present labelled form this own parents and presented it to his daughter.

‘Wow it’s a… golden ball?’ said the Princess. 

The King smiled proudly.

‘Does it do something?’ asked the Princess. ‘Does it open up? Are their jewels inside? Or a trained singing monkey or something?’ She banged the ball on the table a few times to see if it would crack open and reveal an entertaining animal.

‘No, it’s a ball made of solid gold,’ said the King. 

His daughter still looked puzzled. The King realised that the gift giving wasn’t going as well as he had expected.

‘Most people like being given things made of solid gold,’ he said starting to get a bit sulky.

‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ said the Princess. ‘Very shiny. But um… what am I meant to do with it?’

‘I don’t know,’ said the King. 

He’d been royalty his whole life so he didn’t know anything about normal activities. ‘It’s a ball. I suppose you’re meant to throw it or something. Aren’t there things called ball games.’

‘I believe so,’ said the Princess. She weighed it in her hand. ‘You know gold is actually worth a lot of money.’

‘Mmm-what?’ asked the Queen.

‘Money,’ said the Princess. ‘It’s something poor people don’t have a lot of, but when they get it, they use it to swap for things they want.’

‘How intriguing,’ said the Queen.

‘So I could take this gold ball, swap it for lots of money and use that money to buy lots of chocolate,’ said the Princess.

‘No, you can’t do that,’ said the King. ‘It’s a gift.’

‘And it’s a lovely gift,’ said the Princess. ‘But it would be even lovelier once I’ve converted it to chocolate.’

‘I absolutely forbid you to sell that ball,’ said the King. ‘You are an ungrateful girl. You can go and play with it in the garden like a normal princess.’

‘Fine,’ said the Princess. She shook it in her hand. ‘How does this game work again.’

‘You throw it and catch it,’ said the King.

‘Fine, I can be normal,’ said the Princess. ‘I’ll go and play throwy-catch-catch like a normal person.’

So the Princess went out into the royal garden muttering to herself about fathers and what nincompoops they could be, while practising this game her father had spoken off. Throw-catchy-throw. 

She’d never played before so it took her a while to figure out. She had to propel the ball quickly upward, let go, and wait until the ball lost all it’s upward momentum and fell back down again. Whereupon she had to clasp it quickly before it fell to the floor or worse onto her silk slippered feet. 

This was a lot harder than it sounded because the ball was made of solid gold and gold weighs a lot. In addition the princess had never done anything involving hand eye coordination before so on just her third throw the ball slipped through her fingers as she tried to catch it and fell into the royal fish pond in the centre of the royal garden.

‘Oh fiddlesticks,’ said the Princess. This was the worst word she knew, so for her this was a dreadful outbreak of swearing. 

She went over to the pond and peered in. There was not much to see, because this was the royal fish pond and no member of the royal family would ever put their hand in a pond to clean it. They were too royal for that. 

Therefore, in the entire history of the royal fish pond no- one had ever cleaned out the royal fish poo. It was disgusting. You couldn’t see the bottom. You could barely see the ball, the water was so filthy. It had sunk in the deep mud of fish poo at the bottom.

‘Oh, dear if selling the ball to buy chocolate made Daddy cross,’ said the Princess. ‘I’m sure dropping the ball in fish poo will make him furiouis. What am I going to do?’ 

‘Ribbit,’ said a nearby frog.

‘Not now,’ said the Princess. ‘I’m trying to think.’

‘Ribbit,’ repeated the Frog. ‘I can get it for you.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the Princess.

‘I can get the ball,’ said the Frog.

‘No I mean, I beg your pardon, how can you talk if you’re a frog?’ asked the Princess.

‘I have mysterious secrets,’ said the Frog myteriously.

‘Oh,’ said the Princess. 

She could tell the frog wanted her to ask more follow up questions, but she only had twenty minutes until the chocolate shop closed and she didn’t want to get into it with him. ‘Well if you could fetch the ball for me, that would be jolly kind, thank you.’

‘I’ll do it, in exchange for a kiss,’ said the frog.

‘Kiss what?’ asked the Princess, not following the unexpected turn in the conversation.

‘You kiss me,’ said the frog. ‘As a reward for me fetching the ball.’

‘Ew gross,’ said the Princess.

‘It’s not my fault I’m a frog,’ said the frog.

‘Not because you’re a frog,’ said the Princess. ‘Because that is harassment. Blackmailing a girl into kissing you. That is so not cool.’

‘Do you want the ball or not?’ asked the frog.

‘I don’t want it that much,’ said the princess. ‘If you were a gentleman you would fetch it for me just because I asked nicely.’

‘I’m not a gentleman,’ said the frog. ‘I’m a frog.’

‘But I don’t want to kiss you, you’re green and slimy and covered in warts,’ said the Princess.

‘They’re not warts, that’s camouflage,’ said the frog.’

‘You say potato I say potato,’ said the Princess.

‘It’s ten minutes until the chocolate shop closes if you want to get there in time, you better hurry up and kiss me,’ said the Frog.

‘Uh, fine,’ said the Princess. She leaned in to kiss the frog, then paused. ‘You aren’t going to take a photo of this and put it on Instagram are you?’

‘I don’t have a phone, an Instagram account or opposable thumbs,’ said the frog.

‘Alright,’ said the Princess, she leaned in, closed her eyes, tried not to breathe through her nose and gave the frog the quickest, least-lip-contact kiss ever in the history of kisses.

And KAPOW!

There was a flash of light a puff of smoke and the frog instantly turned into…’ 

‘A handsome prince?’ asked Samantha.

‘Why yes, he was,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘How did you know?’

‘I’ve heard a similar story before,’ admitted Samantha.

‘You’re quite right,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘The frog had become the most handsome man on the face of the entire earth. He was staggeringly attractive.’

‘Gosh,’ said the Princess. Taken aback at the power of her kiss.

‘Thank you,’ said the Prince. ‘I was cursed by a wicked witch to be a frog until a beautiful princess came along and kissed me. You have broken the enchantment. You have made me a man again.’ He dropped to one knee. ‘Will you marry me.’

‘Not now,’ said the Princess. ‘You haven’t gotten me my ball yet.’ She pointed to the spot where her ball was still submerged in the fish muck.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ said the Prince. ‘I just proposed.’

‘No, I heard,’ said the Princess. ‘But I don’t want marriage. I just want my ball.’

The Prince turned and looked at the submerged ball. ‘I’m not getting that it’s covered in fish poo.’

‘You were living in that five seconds ago,’ the Princess reminded him.

‘But I’m a Prince now,’ said the Prince. ‘And… your future husband.’

‘I’m not marrying a man who can’t keep a simple promise to pick up a ball,’ said the Princess.

‘I don’t like gooey things,’ protested the Prince.

‘If I kiss you again will you turn back into a frog?’ asked the Princess.

‘No, that’s not how it works,’ said the Prince.

The Princess grabbed him by the head and kissed him anyway to be sure. Nothing happened.

‘Bother,’ said the Princess. 

‘So will you come with me now, to my kingdom to meet my parents,’ said the Prince. 

‘Will they fetch my ball?’ asked the Princess.

‘No,’ said the Prince.

‘Then no,’ said the Princess. ‘I’ll fetch the ball myself.’ She hitched up her skirt and and stepped into the pond. ‘I’ll have you know that ten thousand silk worms had a very unpalatable diet to make this gown, and if it is ruined that is entirely your fault.’ 

She waded across the pond grabbed the ball. Went to the chocolate shop and lived happily ever after as a single lady with a massive supply of chocolate so big it never ran out. The end.

‘I hope you learned something from that story children,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Be grateful for birthday presents?’ asked Samantha.

‘Don’t kiss frogs?’ said Derrick.

‘Put on rubber boots before you step into a pond?’ guessed Michael.

‘No no no,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Although, they are all good lessons too. But the most important lesson to be learned from that story is – when you birthday is approaching, be sure to tell your relatives not to worry about your present. Instead, give them a photograph of exactly which box of chocolates they must get you.’

The children nodded at this sage wisdom. Samantha even wrote it down on the back of her hand.

Nanny Piggins checked her watch. ‘It’s midnight, just enough time for three or four more slices of cake before it’s time for bed.’

The end.

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That's it for now. Until next time, goodbye.