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Chapter 4:- In Which Adelice Looks for Feathers
"Excuse me, sir, but do you by any chance sell feathers?"
The farmer had a piece of grass hanging out of his mouth and a bewildered look on his face. The bustle of the market swooshed around them in their awkward moment of time. The farmer pointed backwards into his stall where a cow stood. "Yes, I see you have a cow, but do you have any feathers?"
The farmer looked around and put his hands up in the air. "Do you see anywhere I'd get me some feathers?!?"
"Well, I just thought..."
"I'm a DAIRY farmer! Not some bird-brained chicken master!"
Adelice backed away from the stall, half-curtsying. "Sorry, of course not, sorry," She mumbled then turned and scampered down the street. She put her hands on her head and pulled at her hair. "Where in the world am I supposed to get all those feathers?!?" Adelice screamed in frustration, earning herself some odd looks. She attempted a smile at the people around her. "Don't mind me," she said to herself behind gritted teeth, "I'm just some crazy person looking for some bloody feathers!"
It wasn't until an hour later that Adelice came upon some good fortune. "Excuse me," she asked the elderly gypsy lady in the stall, "You wouldn't by any chance be selling any feathers, would you?"
The lady squinted up at Adelice with one eye, the other missing, wrinkled skin falling over the socket. Adelice managed to contain her reaction. "Why yes," the lady slithered out "I do have me some fikfooten feathers to sell." Suddenly this weathered old hag appeared an angel to Adelice.
"Really? You really have fikfooten feathers?!?" The lady nodded. Adelice hugged the old hag-angel. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you!"
The gypsy pried Adelice off her. "I wouldn't be thankin' me yet..." She rubbed her thumb and pointer finger together.
"Oh, yes, of course, how much are they?"
"20 pounds each."
"What?!?" Adelice shrieked, then covered her mouth. "20 pounds each?!" she whispered. "Are you mad?!"
The gypsy grinned. "Fikfooten feathers are very hard to come by these days..."
Adelice did the math in her head. To cover a whole skirt, she'd need about thirty... So that would be... 600 pounds! Adelice pulled her coin purse out from her skirts. Not nearly enough! She sighed. "Alright, I'm going to need 30 fikfooten feathers delivered to Mademoiselle Claire's sewing shop on fifth street. You shall be paid when you arrive." Adelice turned and stalked off before the gypsy lady could object.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you by any chance sell feathers?"
The farmer had a piece of grass hanging out of his mouth and a bewildered look on his face. The bustle of the market swooshed around them in their awkward moment of time. The farmer pointed backwards into his stall where a cow stood. "Yes, I see you have a cow, but do you have any feathers?"
The farmer looked around and put his hands up in the air. "Do you see anywhere I'd get me some feathers?!?"
"Well, I just thought..."
"I'm a DAIRY farmer! Not some bird-brained chicken master!"
Adelice backed away from the stall, half-curtsying. "Sorry, of course not, sorry," She mumbled then turned and scampered down the street. She put her hands on her head and pulled at her hair. "Where in the world am I supposed to get all those feathers?!?" Adelice screamed in frustration, earning herself some odd looks. She attempted a smile at the people around her. "Don't mind me," she said to herself behind gritted teeth, "I'm just some crazy person looking for some bloody feathers!"
It wasn't until an hour later that Adelice came upon some good fortune. "Excuse me," she asked the elderly gypsy lady in the stall, "You wouldn't by any chance be selling any feathers, would you?"
The lady squinted up at Adelice with one eye, the other missing, wrinkled skin falling over the socket. Adelice managed to contain her reaction. "Why yes," the lady slithered out "I do have me some fikfooten feathers to sell." Suddenly this weathered old hag appeared an angel to Adelice.
"Really? You really have fikfooten feathers?!?" The lady nodded. Adelice hugged the old hag-angel. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you!"
The gypsy pried Adelice off her. "I wouldn't be thankin' me yet..." She rubbed her thumb and pointer finger together.
"Oh, yes, of course, how much are they?"
"20 pounds each."
"What?!?" Adelice shrieked, then covered her mouth. "20 pounds each?!" she whispered. "Are you mad?!"
The gypsy grinned. "Fikfooten feathers are very hard to come by these days..."
Adelice did the math in her head. To cover a whole skirt, she'd need about thirty... So that would be... 600 pounds! Adelice pulled her coin purse out from her skirts. Not nearly enough! She sighed. "Alright, I'm going to need 30 fikfooten feathers delivered to Mademoiselle Claire's sewing shop on fifth street. You shall be paid when you arrive." Adelice turned and stalked off before the gypsy lady could object.
