‘The 12 Dancing Pigcesses’ as told by Nanny Piggins

Here we go…

‘Did I ever tell you the story about the 12 dancing pigcesses?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘The 12 dancing what?’ asked Derrick.

‘Pigcesses,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘What’s a pigcess?’ asked Michael.

‘It’s like a princess only better, because it’s a pig,’ said Nanny Piggins.

The children paused for a moment to consider this.

‘No, you haven’t told us that story,’ said Samantha.

‘Is it from the olden story days?’ asked Michael.

‘Actually, no,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It’s a story about my sisters.’

‘Surely, that’s not right,’ said Derrick. ‘The 12 dancing princesses was a story from Grimms’ fairy tales which was written 200 years ago.’

‘Hmm,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone knows those Grimm brothers were master story collectors (or story thieves) but I strongly suspect they were also time travellers. I thought I saw them at my last birthday party trying to steal a slice of cake. They probably heard about my sisters over the buffet table then rushed back in time to put in their book. Authors are the most despicable people.’

Anyway, the real original story of the ‘12 dancing pigcesses’ was about my indentical fourteenuplet sisters Anthea, Beatrice, Abigail, Gretel, Deidre, Jeanette, Ursula, Nadia, Sophia, Sue, Charlotte, Wendy and Katerina.’

‘But there are 14 of you, not 12,’ Samantha pointed out. 

‘Ah, but at the time of the events in the story I wasn’t there. I’d been kidnapped by the Ringmaster and forced to become an internationally renowned circus star,’ explained Nanny Piggins.

‘That leaves 13,’ said Samantha.

‘Who else was missing?’ asked Derrick.

‘Katerina,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘The one who’s obsessed with vegetables?’ asked Michael.

‘Yes,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘She was in prison.’

‘What for?’ asked Derrick. 

‘Forcing a teenager to eat a brussel sprout,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘The judge took a very dim few of the matter. He said it was assault. I think the judge had been traumatised by being forced to eat broccoli as a child, so he had strong views on the subject. He sentenced poor Katerina to 5 years hard labour.’

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ said Samantha. ‘I don’t like brussels sprouts. But 5 years…’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘She only served 5 months. That’s how long it took her to weave a rope ladder out of sweet husks. 

But during those five months is when the events of the story take place. My other twelve sisters were adopted by the King of Bottomlypotts-kaa-via.’

‘I’ve never heard of that country,’ said Derrick.

‘No,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It’s subsequently been shut down. The king was a bit of a fruit loop. He didn’t have any children of his own so he decided to adopt. He had been planning to adopt a baby. But he bumped into my sisters one day and they are all staggeringly beautiful. 

So beautiful in fact that it may have caused him to have some sort of strok,e or brain injury, or they may have tricked him into eating a slice of mudcake so sweet it sent him into a temporary sugar hallucination. 

When he regained his senses two weeks later - he had 12 daughters – my sisters – who as we know are all staggeringly beautiful, but despicably evil in each their own unique way.’

The king really did want to have children so he decided to make the most of it. He gave them a room in the castle, bought them the finest clothes and the most beautiful shoes – befitting a princess. And thought that would be that. 

Suffice it to say - that was not that.

‘You see the problem with having twelve children is they are devilishly expensive to keep,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Especially when they’re princesses and they liked nice things. And my sisters particularly liked nice…’

‘Cake?’ guessed Michael.

‘Of course!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘They weren’t brain damaged. But that wasn’t the problem – the problem was their shoes.’

‘A lot of stories seem to revolve around shoes, or cobblers and elves having to make shoes,’ observed Derrick.

‘That’s because bakers are too busy baking cake, and making people happy, to lark around making up stories about themselves,’ said Nanny Piggins. 

‘But I digress. The King’s problem was the shoes. 12 pairs of pigcess worthy shoes is expensive!’

‘If father had to buy us a new pair of shoes each day,’ said Samantha. ‘I think he’d just chop our feet off.’

‘Good gracious Samantha, what a horrible thought,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘An accurate observation of your father’s character, but a horrible thought. This may be one of Grimms’ fairy tales but it’s not that Grimm. 

No, the King was getting angry because every night the pigcesses would go to bed like normal pigcesses. But come the morning their shoes would be entirely worn out. As if they had spent the whole night dancing. He tried locking them in their room. But still every night the pigcesses would somehow escape, go dancing and totally wreck their footwear.

‘The king didn’t know what to do. Royalty aren’t great problem solvers,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘So he offered a prize. Any man who could figure out how the princesses were wrecking their shoes - could pick one of the princesses to marry AND he would become heir to the kingdom.’

‘He must have really hated paying for shoes,’ said Michael.

‘He did,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But he didn’t want to make it easy. The King didn’t want just any old ninny-hammer getting his job. There was a catch.

The contenders would have three nights to figure out how the princesses were doing it. If, after that time, they couldn’t explain the damaged footwear. Not only would they not get to marry a pigcess. They would also not get to keep their head.

‘What do you mean?’ said Michael.

‘The King chop their head off,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Whoa, that’s crazy,’ said Michael.

‘Yes, insanity does tend to run in royal families,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘It’s all the crown wearing. It crushes the brain and makes them do the silliest things.’ 

‘So anyway, the first contender was a prince from a neighbouring kingdom,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘He was seriously good looking. So he thought he’d figure it out in no time. Sadly, this confidence was entirely caused by pretty privilege because no one had told him he was an idiot which he was. 

The prince watched over the princesses for three nights in a row, but he didn’t hear or see a thing. And yet each night, the pigcesses danced their shoes to ruin. So and on the third day the King kept his promise chopped the prince’s head off,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘How horrible,’ said Boris.

‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But it didn’t deter the contenders. Next a scientist came to observe the pigcesses, confident that with rational thinking and logic he would work it out. But after three days - he still had no idea - so the King chopped his head off too.’

‘That must have made such a mess,’ said Boris.

‘The next contender was a clown,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘A clown,’ said Michael.

‘Yes, he ran away from the circus to give it a go,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘And he got the pigcesses to reveal the secret by making them laugh?’ guessed Derrick.

‘No,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘He spent the whole three days making balloon animals and didn’t learn a thing. So the King chopped his head off as well.’

‘How dastardly,’ said Boris.

‘He chopped the heads off the balloon animals as well,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘He was not a terribly nice king. By this stage there weren’t a lot of people interested in trying to figure out how the pigcesses were ruining their shoes. True, they were pretty and being a King would be nice. But you can’t enjoy it if you’re headless. So all the well-known princes scientists and entertainers were stayed away.’

But it just so happened, at this time there was a soldier passing through the kingdom. He had been discharged from the army because of an injury. One night as he was sitting by his campfire an old lady pig, all bent over and wizened drew near.

‘Excuse me,’ said the wizened old crone. ‘Would you mind terribly if I sat by your fire? It is such a cold night.’

The soldier knew how awful it was to be cold so he immediately said ‘yes’. And he knew how awful it was to be hungry, so he offered the old crone one of his biscuits. 

Soldiers biscuits aren’t the best biscuits. They’re no iced vovos and they never have chocolate chips. But a mediocre biscuit is a gazillion times better than no biscuit, so the old crone took it gratefully. 

‘Where do you go from here?’ asked the crone.

‘I thought I might try to win one of the royal pigcesses,’ said the soldier, half joking.

‘Because you have been so kind and generous to me,’ said the crone. ‘I shall give you a gift to help you.  I shall give you - my cloak.’

‘Oh ,I wouldn’t dream of taking your cloak,’ said the soldier. ‘You’d be cold.’ He actually didn’t care about that, but the cloak was bright pink and very frilly, and while it looked fabulous on the crone, he knew it wouldn’t suit his colouring.

‘It is a magical cloak,’ said the crone. ‘You see I am not an ordinary crone. I am a pig-witch.’

As she said this, the light from the fire shone against her face and the soldier realised that the crone was younger than he had realised.

 ‘My cloak,’ continued the crone. ‘Will give you the power to hide yourself. When you wear it you will become - completely invisible.’

The soldier liked the sound of this. He definitely didn’t want to be visible if he was wearing something so ridiculous.

‘My other gift is - wisdom,’ said the crone. ‘Mark my words. When you go to watch the princesses do not eat anything they give you.’

‘Because they will be high in calories and I should watch my weight?’ asked the soldier.

‘No, because they have been tricking the other contenders with sleeping cake,’ said the witch.

‘Gosh!’ exclaimed the soldier. ‘Thanks for the tip.’

So the next day he to the castle and presented himself. The king was glad to see him. He wanted the solve the shoe problem but he also enjoyed chopping heads off – so he was going to enjoy the next three days either way.

The soldier was shown to the walk-in wardrobe of the pigcesses’ bedroom. He was to sleep in there so he could keep an eye on them during the night.

As the soldier lay down the oldest sister brought him a slice of chocolate mud cake. It looked delicious. 

The soldier’s instinct was to shove the whole thing in his mouth at once. But he remembered the wise words of the crone and instead, when she wasn’t looking he shoved the cake down the front of his shirt. Then lay down and made snoring noises to pretend to be asleep.

As soon as the pigcesses heard his snoring they leapt up and put on their dancing shoes. They they slid to one side the bed belonging to the eldest sister. Underneath, was a trap door, which lead down into a staircase. They all hurried down it. 

The soldier put his pink cloak about his shoulders, became invisible and rushed after them. When they emerged from the bottom of the staircase the soldier followed the pigcesses out into a forest of - banana cake. It was the most beautiful cake he had ever seen. 

Tru,e it did have fruit in it which was a little disappointing. But when the soldier broke off a leaf and tasted it - there was so much butter and cinnamon and sugar inside it still tasted good. There was no time to stop and eat more – the pigcesses were hurrying through the forest. So he shoved big handful of banana cake into his hat, put it back on his head and kept following them.

Next they came to a mountain of sticky caramel lollies. The pigcesses hurriedly climbed it without pausing. But the caramels looked delicious so the soldier grabbed two handfuls and shoved them into each of his socks. 

Finally they came to a lake - of chocolate. There were 12 little row boats on the bank which the princesses hurried into. The chocolate looked delicious but the soldier didn’t have time to drink any, so he took of his shoes, scooped up as much chocolate as they would hold put them in his pockets for later. Then got into a boat alongside one of the princesses. 

The pigcesses rowed across the lake to the far bank on which stood a discoteque with pumping dance beats. The princesses rushed inside and began to boogie. They were really splendid at it. They bopped away happily all night long. The soldier even joined in, although no one could see him, because he was still wearing the invisible pink cloak.

As the first light of dawn began to glow above the horizon, the princesses hurried back across the chocolate lake, over the caramel mountain, through the forest of banana cake and up the staircase back to their room, where they kicked off their ruined shoes and went back to bed.

At 8am sharp the door burst open and the King strode in.

‘Show me your shoes!’ he ordered. ‘They had better not be ruined.’

The pigcesses lay in under their covers pretending that they had been asleep this whole time. But at the foot of each bed was a torn and tattered pair of footwear.

‘You,’ said the King, turning on the soldier. ‘You were supposed to watch over them and find out how this is happening. What do you have to say for yourself?’

The soldier stepped out of his wardrobe. ‘The truth,’ said the soldiers. ‘I shall tell you the truth. Your daughters have travelled through a wood of banana cake, over a mountain of caramel cookies and rowed across a lake of chocolate to go to a fabulous discotecque where they have danced all night long.’

 ‘That’s ridiculous!’ exclaimed the King.

‘I can prove it,’ said the soldier. 

He took off his hat and there was cake on his head. 

He reached into his socks and pulled out sticky caramels.

 And he put his hand in his pocket and withdrew his shoes full of chocolate.

‘And your daughters tricked the contenders by feeding them this!’ The soldier reached into his shirt and pulled out a slimey gross brown lump.

‘What’s that?’ asked the King. 

‘Well it was a slice of mudcake,’ said the soldier. ‘Poisoned mudcake,’

The King turned to his daughers, ‘Is this true?’ 

‘No,’ said the eldest daughter.

‘Really?’ asked the King.

‘Are you going to believe us, or a man who stuffs banana cake under his hat, mudcake down his shirt, sticky caramels in his pockets and chocolate in his shoes?’

‘Good point,’ said the King.

So he cut the soldier’s head off and never did find out where the pigcesses had been going every night. The end.

‘It can’t end like that,’ wailed Samantha.

‘No, true,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘It didn’t really. The King thanked the soldier. Declared him a hero for solving the mystery and offered him his reward. 

‘You may choose your pigcess and make her your bride,’ declared the King.

The pigcesses preened. They all wanted to be the one who was chosen. 

‘Um, no thank you,’ said the solider ‘I think I’m going to go back to the woods and propose to the crone. She was much easier to get along with. Any 12 girls, who think it’s reasonable to let men get decapitated, so they can go off dancing every night, are too high maintenance for me.

And that’s what he did. So he and the crone lived happily ever after because now he knew how to get to the forest of cake, the mountain of caramels and lake of chocolate they never went hungry again. The end.

Thank you for listening. Well that was episode 104 which means I’ve been telling these stories for two whole years. Thank you for coming on this journey with me.

Next week, I’ll begin season two – when I start reading the Peski Kids. 

So until next time goodbye.