A Blink of the Screen

were actually paved with it.
    Now, to the west of this land was a high range of mountains, where the prince – did I say his name was Alfred? Well, it was – had a hunting lodge.
    One day when he was out hunting deer with his knights his horse bolted, and carried him away through the thick pine forests. The sounds of the hunt disappeared in the distance, while the prince leaned on the reins and tried to calm his mount.
    By the time he had done this he was in an unknown part of the mountains, on the edge of a wide clearing. He found what was wrong with his horse – a sharp burr had got under the saddle girth – and while he stood adjusting it a deer burst into the centre of the glade.
    It was the one he had been hunting – but before he could reach for his bow a silver arrow hissed out of the trees and killed the creature.
    ‘Oi, oi,’ he thought. ‘Poachers in my mountains!’
    Out of the trees rode a host of knights in silver armour, riding white horses. At their head rode a princess clad in silver cloth.
    She had white hair, and I dare say I hardly have to tell you that Alfred thought she was the dearest, prettiest, fairest, etc., princess he’d ever clapped eyes on, even though her long hair was whiter than his granny’s.
    Her knights took the deer and rode away, and of course Alfred followed. He soon realized he was going down the other side of the mountain.
    The sun was setting, and this is what he saw. Over the land on the other side of the mountains a big silver moon was rising. The whole land shone like silver, silver flowers grew in the grass, and in the distance his princess was riding.
    ‘Where is this place?’ the prince wondered out loud.
    In the tree above someone coughed.
    ‘It’s the Land of the Moon, of course.’
    The prince looked up and saw that he was under an old wild pear tree, with gnarled boughs and wizened fruit, and hardly any leaves to speak of. On the lowest branch sat a large, fat, ugly brown bird with big eyebrows.
    ‘What sort of bird is it that speaks?’ said Alfred.
    ‘Me. I’m the partridge. The Partridge, I should say, In A Pear Tree. And you’re Prince Alfred. The girl is Princess Selena, but if you want to marry her you’ll have to woo her. Chocolates and flowers and so on.’
    ‘She looks as if she can have anything she wants,’ pointed out Alfred.

    ‘Please yourself,’ said the partridge. ‘I’m only here to help, I’m sure. All I’ll say is she has promised to marry the man that gives her a Christmas present that dances, leaps, plays tunes, makes a beat, carries pails, hisses, swims, lays eggs, can be worn on one hand, sings, cackles, coos, waggles its eyebrows and is good to eat. All at once, let me add.’
    ‘What for?’ asked Prince Alfred.
    ‘Her father, King of the Land of the Moon, decided that only the man who could think up the right kind of present was worthy to marry his daughter. He’s got no sons, you see, so whoever is her husband will become king of that land in time,’ added the partridge.
    ‘A parrot,’ said the prince, thoughtfully. ‘That might be all right.’
    ‘The Emperor of the Rainbow Land tried that,’ said the partridge. ‘It didn’t work.’
    So the prince said goodbye to the wise old partridge in his pear tree, and went back home deep in thought.
    He called all the palace wizards, wise men and deep thinkers together, and asked them what dances, leaps, plays tunes, makes a beat, carries pails, hisses, swims, lays eggs, can be worn on one hand, sings , cackles, coos, waggles its eyebrows and is good to eat? ‘Come on, work it out, or you’ll get no Christmas bonus!’
    ‘It’s a riddle,’ said one of them. But think as they might, they couldn’t find the answer.
    So the prince organized a great competition, with a gold cup as the prize for anyone who could guess the answer.
    But although the hall of the castle was filled to overflowing with postmen sorting out the replies, and people queuing up in the hope of winning the cup, no one thought up anything like the right answer. The prince sat on his gold throne and sighed.
    Right at the end of the queue was the partridge, walking since he was far too fat to fly.

    ‘What are you doing here!’ gasped Prince Alfred.
    ‘I’ve come for the prize,’ said the partridge.
    ‘You mean you knew all the time?’
    ‘You didn’t ask me, did you? But I don’t want the cup. What I want costs nothing, is as light as air, and I shan’t tell you what it is. Not yet