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A Little Princess
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Text copyright © 1994 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published as a Bullseye Book by Random House, Inc., in 1994.
www.steppingstonesbooks.com/
www.randomhouse.com/kids
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dubowski, Cathy East.
A little princess / by Frances Hodgson Burnett; adapted by Cathy East Dubowski.
p. cm.
“A Stepping Stone book.”
SUMMARY: Sara Crewe, a pupil at Miss Minchin’s London school, is left in poverty when her father dies but is later rescued by a mysterious benefactor.
eISBN: 978-0-307-77164-3
[1. Boarding schools—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Orphans—Fiction.
4. London (England)—History—1800–1950—Fiction. 5. Great Britain—History—Victoria, 1837–1901—Fiction.] I. Jones, Richard, ill. II. Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849–1924. Little princess. III. Title.
PZ7.D85445Li 2005 [E]—dc22 2004009255
RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
v3.1
To my Little Princesses,
Lauren & Megan, with love
—C.E.D.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. Sara’s New Home
2. Emily
3. French Lessons
4. Friends and Enemies
5. Lottie
6. Becky
7. Diamond Mines
8. A Perfect Party
9. Terrible News
10. How Things Changed
11. The Attic
12. Two Visitors
13. The Large Family
14. Neighbors from India
15. On the Other Side of the Wall
16. The Hungry Child
17. The Secret Party
18. The Magic
19. “It Is the Child!”
20. Sara’s Idea
About the Author
1
Sara’s New Home
“How odd things are,” thought Sara Crewe.
She had been home not long ago. Home was Bombay, India, where the sun was bright and hot.
Then she and Papa got on a big ship. They sailed for days and days. The deck was steamy under the hot sun. The ocean seemed to go on forever.
Now they were in a strange new place. The crowded streets of London!
Sara looked out the carriage window. The sky was dark and gray. The fog was thick and damp. Gas lamps glowed in the windows of the shops. The day was as dark as night!
“Papa,” she whispered. “Is this the place?”
Captain Crewe pulled his daughter close. “Yes, little Sara,” he said softly. “We are here at last.”
Sara was only seven. But she knew he was sad when he said it. “Well, Papa,” she said. “We must make the best of it.”
Captain Crewe laughed. Sara sounded so serious. Sometimes she seemed older than he was!
Captain Crewe was in the British army. The army had sent him to India, where Sara was born. So she was an English girl who had never been to England.
But Sara always knew she must leave India one day. India was much too hot for children. It was not good for their health. That’s what the English mothers and fathers said.
The weather was milder in England. The children could go to good schools. They would learn to stand on their own two feet. Sooner or later every child was sent away.
And now it was Sara’s turn.
Sara looked up at her young father. How handsome he was in his red uniform! Her mother had died when she was born. So he was all she had in the world.
Her father was rich. She had heard people say so. They said she would be rich one day too. But what did it mean to be rich? Sara didn’t know.
They had many servants in India. Sara had an Indian ayah to look after her. She had books and clothes and toys.
But what good was all that? What good was it to be rich? She must still give up what she loved most. She must say goodbye to Papa.
The carriage clattered to a stop. Sara looked out. A row of brick houses stood before her. Each one looked the same. Tall and dull and ugly.
One house had a small brass sign. It said: “Miss Minchin’s School for Young Ladies.”
“Here we are,” said her father cheerfully. He twirled her down from the carriage. Then they climbed the steps and rang the bell.
A maid opened the door. She showed them into Miss Minchin’s sitting room.
Sara looked around. The house had many nice things. Fine furniture. Thick rugs. Everything was polished and dusted.
But the house looked hard and unfriendly to Sara. It looked like a house just for show—not for living in.
“I don’t like it,” she whispered. “But even brave soldiers don’t like going into battle. Do they, Papa?”
“Oh, Sara, my Little Soldier,” he said. “What will I do without you?”
Then he hugged her hard and laughed. But Sara saw tears in his eyes.
At that moment Miss Minchin came in. She looked just like her house—tall, dull, and unfriendly. She had cold, fishy eyes and a cold, fishy smile.
“Captain Crewe,” she said. “I am so pleased to have your daughter here.” She looked down her nose at Sara. “Such a beautiful child!”
“Why does she say that?” Sara thought. “I am not beautiful. I don’t have long golden hair or blue eyes. I have short black hair and green eyes. She is beginning by telling a lie.”
Then Captain Crewe and Miss Minchin talked. He wanted Sara to have the best of everything. The prettiest bedroom. Her own sitting room. A French maid to replace her Indian ayah.
“I am sure Sara will do well in school,” Captain Crewe said fondly. “She always has her nose in a book. She doesn’t read them. She gobbles them up.”
“How clever,” Miss Minchin said with a stiff smile.
“Yes,” said Captain Crewe. “But you must make her play more. She should have lots of dolls.”
“Oh, Papa,” said Sara. “I wouldn’t like lots of dolls. I couldn’t be fond of them all. A doll should be special. Emily will be my special friend.”
“Who is Emily?” Miss Minchin asked.
“She is a doll I haven’t got yet,” said Sara. “Papa is going to buy her for me. I have named her Emily. She will be my friend. Someone I can talk to when Papa is gone.”
“Oh,” said Miss Minchin, “what a darling child.”
Sara thought her words sounded false. But Captain Crewe only smiled.
“Yes,” he said, and held Sara close. “You must take good care of her for me.”
2
Emily
Captain Crewe would leave England soon. So Sara spent every last minute with him.
Every day they went out to the shops. If Sara looked at something, her father bought it. He bought far more than Sara needed. Captain Crewe was young and spirited. He cared little for money. But he loved his daughter more than life itself. He wanted to give her everything.
They went to the fanciest dressmakers. They bought dresses in every color. Coats lined in fur. Hats trimmed with ostrich feathers. Gloves with tiny pearl buttons.
It was all much too grand for a girl of seven. But Captain Crewe did not see that. The shop girls whispered behind their hands. The child must be a princess from a faraway land!
Each day Sara looked for Emily.
But she was not easy to find. “She must look real,” Sara said. “As if she listens when I talk. Most dolls never seem to hear.”
They looked at big dolls and small dolls. Dolls with black eyes and dolls with blue eyes. But none was Emily.
One day Sara and Captain Crewe took a walk. Suddenly Sara stopped.
“Papa!” she cried. “There’s Emily!”
Captain Crewe looked into the window. A very pretty doll smiled out at them. Sara pulled him into the shop.
“Dear me,” said Captain Crewe. “I feel as if someone should introduce us.”
“You introduce me,” said Sara. “And I will introduce you. But I knew her at once. So maybe she knows us, too.”
Sara took the doll into her arms. She had golden-brown curls. Her eyes were blue. And she had real, soft eyelashes—not just lines painted on.
“Oh, yes,” said Sara. “This is Emily.”
So Emily was bought. Then it was back to the shops. For Emily must have new clothes too. Clothes as fine as Sara’s.
The days in London were happy ones. But finally the time came for Captain Crewe to go home to India.
He gave Miss Minchin a card. It said: “Mr. Barrow and Mr. Skipworth.”
“My lawyers,” he said. “They handle all my business in England. You may send any bills to them. Remember: “Sara is to have anything she asks for.”
Captain Crewe walked Sara to her room. It was time to say goodbye. Sara sat on her father’s knee. She looked long and hard at his face.
“Are you learning me by heart, Little Soldier?”
“No, Papa,” Sara whispered. “I know you by heart. You are inside my heart.”
Then they hugged each other very tight. As if they would never let go.
3
French Lessons
The next morning Sara woke up. “Papa!” she thought. Then she remembered.
“He is at sea now,” she told Emily. “We must be great friends.”
Sara’s maid, Mariette, came in. “Good morning!” she said in French. She helped Sara put on her school uniform. She tied pink ribbons in her hair.
Sara sat Emily in a tiny doll chair. Then she gave her a book. “Here,” she said. “You may read while I am gone.”
Mariette watched with wide eyes.
“I think dolls can do things,” Sara explained. “Maybe Emily can read. Maybe she can walk and talk.”
“Then why do we not see her?” asked Mariette.
“Oh, she won’t do those things while we are here,” said Sara. “What if people knew? They would put all the dolls to work. So the dolls keep it a secret.”
Mariette laughed. “What funny ideas you have, my little one!”
Then it was time for school. Sara went downstairs. She could hear the girls laughing in the schoolroom.
Sara went in. Everyone hushed. Everyone stared.
But Sara did not mind. She wanted to know all about them, too.
Lavinia Herbert glared at the new girl. Lavinia was the oldest. She ruled the younger girls like a queen.
She poked her friend Jessie. “She is not even pretty,” she whispered. “Her eyes are an odd color.”
“But there is something interesting about her,” said Jessie. “She makes you want to look at her again.”
Lavinia frowned. She hated Sara already.
Miss Minchin came in and rapped on her desk. “Young ladies,” she said. “This is your new friend, Miss Sara Crewe. She comes to us from far away. From India.”
Sara smiled and made a curtsy.
“Sara,” said Miss Minchin. “Your father hired a French maid for you. He must want you to study French.”
“Excuse me,” said Sara. “I think he hired her because he thought it would please me.”
“My, my,” Miss Minchin said. “Aren’t we a spoiled little girl. Not everything is done just to please you! Believe me—your father wishes you to learn French.”
But Sara knew how to speak French. She had always known how. Her mother had been French, and Papa spoke it often. Perhaps it helped him to remember her.
Sara was not sure what to say. “I—I have never really learned French, but—”
“That’s enough,” said Miss Minchin. “You have not learned it. You must begin at once. Here is your book. Monsieur Dufarge will be here soon.”
Sara sat down. She looked at the book. It was so simple and easy. She wanted to laugh. But Miss Minchin would not like that! So she tried to look serious.
Miss Minchin frowned. “You look very cross, Sara. I am sorry you do not want to learn French.”
“I am very fond of it,” said Sara. “But—”
“You must not always say ‘but’ when you are told to do things,” said Miss Minchin. “Look at your book, please.”
Sara did. She tried not to smile or frown.
Soon Monsieur Dufarge arrived. He smiled when he saw Sara. “Ah, a new student for me, Madame?”
“Yes,” said Miss Minchin. “Her papa wants her to learn French. But I am afraid she is set against it.”
“I am sorry of that,” Monsieur Dufarge said. He smiled at Sara. “Maybe I can change your mind?”
Sara rose from her seat. Monsieur Dufarge had a kind face. Perhaps he would understand.
She began to explain. In French!
Miss Minchin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Monsieur was delighted. “Ah! I cannot teach this child French!” he exclaimed. “Why, she is French!”
“Sara!” Miss Minchin grumbled. “You should have told me!”
“I—I tried,” said Sara.
Lavinia and Jessie giggled behind their books. Miss Minchin’s face turned red. Sara had made her look like a fool.
Then and there she began to dislike Sara Crewe.
Now Miss Minchin was very cross. Her eyes fell upon a fat little girl in the third row. She had long blond braids. And she was chewing on her ribbons.
“Miss St. John!” she cried. “Take those ribbons out of your mouth. Elbows off the desk! Sit up at once!”
The girl almost burst into tears.
Sara felt sorry for her. She watched her all morning. The girl had trouble with her lessons. Her French was very bad. Lavinia and the other girls laughed at her.
But Sara did not laugh. After lessons she sat down beside her. “My name is Sara,” she said. “What’s yours?”
The girl looked surprised. “Ermengarde,” she said.
Sara said it slowly: “Er-men-garde. It’s pretty, like a name in a fairy tale.”
“Do you really think so?” Ermengarde said with a shy smile. Then she sighed. “You’re so clever, Sara.”
Ermengarde looked so sad. Sara had an idea. “Would you like to meet Emily?”
“Who is Emily?” asked Ermengarde.
“Come to my room and see,” said Sara.
The two girls ran upstairs. Sara stopped at her door. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Perhaps we will catch her!”
Sara listened. She looked through the keyhole. Then she threw open the door. The girls rushed inside.
But the room was quiet. Emily sat in her chair. The book was in her lap. She was just as Sara had left her.
“Oh!” said Sara. “She must have jumped into her seat.”
“Can she really walk?” asked Ermengarde.
“I believe she can,” said Sara. “At least, I pretend she can. That makes it seem true. Would you like to hold her?”
They sat on Sara’s tiger skin rug. Sara told Ermengarde stories about India. But that made Sara think of her father. She sighed.
“Do you love your father?” Sara asked. “More than anything?”
Ermengarde didn’t know how to answer. Her father was very smart. But he was ashamed of her. He could not stand that she was so stupid. Did she love her father? She did not know. She just tried to stay out of his way!
“I love mine more than all the world,” said Sara. “But now he has gone away.”
Ermengarde thought Sara might cry. But she didn’t.
Ermengarde thought Sara was wonderful.
“Lavinia and Jessie are best friends,” she said shyly. “Could we be best friends?” Then she blushed. Perhaps Sara would not want to be friends with a girl who was fat and stupid.
“Of course we can,” Sara said with a smile. She squeezed Ermengarde’s hand. “I’ll even help you with French.”
4
Friends and Enemies
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. The girls put on their best dresses. They lined up two by two.
Lavinia took her place at the head of the line since she was the oldest. Her clothes were the latest style. She believed she deserved to be first. And she knew Miss Minchin liked to show her off.
At last Miss Minchin marched down the steps. Her fat, timid sister, Amelia, hurried after her. Lavinia smiled.
“Sara Crewe,” Miss Minchin called. “Please come to the front of the line.”
Lavinia’s mouth flew open in surprise. So did Sara’s. But Sara obeyed. She dragged Ermengarde with her. Ermengarde giggled at Lavinia’s scowl.
“Come, girls,” Miss Minchin said. Then she stuck her long, thin nose in the air and marched them off to church.
Step by step, Lavinia’s jealousy grew.
Sara soon made lots of friends.
The younger girls were used to being ordered about. Lavinia often made them cry.
But Sara never did. She took care of scraped knees. She helped with lessons, especially French. She gave tea parties in her room. She even let them play with Emily.
Most of the girls adored Sara.
Lavinia could hardly stand it. Miss Minchin was even worse, especially when parents came to visit.
“Sara dear,” she would say. “Speak French for Lady Pitkin.” Or, “Please tell the Wests about India.”
Then Miss Minchin would smile. Sara was bright and rich. She had nice manners. She made the school look good. That made Miss Minchin look good too.
But she didn’t really care about Sara. She cared about Captain Crewe’s money!
A Little Princess