Fur

Preparation

"There is no way you're taking the nights off during the royal balls," Chef Lucille ordered. "I need you to help me with my signature soup! His Majesty's always in a good mood when he sips my soup!"

Armelle's heart sank. Now what?

"But," Lucille held up a finger. "If you finish early, you may be excused. But be ready to serve the dishes at midnight."

Yes!!!

Armelle immediately got to work. She washed the dishes after lunch and boiled the broth for dinner. Lucille kept a good look out for any mistakes. Armelle was sure Lucille would form wrinkles at the ends of her eyes like sailors. She continuously squinted at her recipe.

As Armelle chopped carrots, she asked, "So, what makes this soup special?"

"Firstly," Lucille took the knife away from Armelle. "I chop the vegetables in PERFECT SLICES!!" She twirled the knife in the air and abruptly hunched over the cutting board to chop one slice of carrot. "Each slice should be exactly a centimeter long." She looked at the slice. "Agh, too slanted. This is the wrong knife."

Lucille rummaged through the drawers and dramatically drew out a scratched up knife, blowing off the dust.

"Meet Lydia," she whispered. "Armelle, Lydia. Lydia, Armelle," she introduced the two.

"Um," Armelle didn't know how to respond. "She seems ...retired."

"But of course not!" Lucille laughed. "Watch!" She chopped a carrot bit off and held it up. "Get the tape measurer from the left cupboard."

Armelle rushed to the cupboard, pulling out a long strip marked with numbers. She held it up to the carrot bit. It was literally one centimeter thick.

"And Lydia saves the day once more!" Lucille raised the knife triumphantly.

The nearby cuckoo clock suddenly chirped.

"Oh my -it's six o'clock!!" Lucille cried. "The guests are arriving! Chop chop! Double-time!!!!"

Armelle couldn't believe it. She was chopping vegetables in such an unrealistic fashion. The slices were all identical!

She moved on to the meat. After fetching a plump chicken from the outdoor shed, she pulled the feathers off as fast as she could. Unfortunately, this lead to an eventful moment with Lucille choking on a feather (she already had a terrible cold and had been breathing through her mouth).

Finally, when everything was ready -soup and all- the cuckoo clock struck seven.

Lucille shrieked a bloodcurdling scream, "IT'S SEVEN O'CLOCK!!!!" Armelle practically fell down in terror. Lucille then calmly turned to Armelle and said, "You may be excused."

Relieved, Armelle scurried to her room.