"You could challenge the prince to a duel," the frog suggested.
He'd win," Cimorene said. "It's been four years since I've been allowed to do any fencing."
"You could turn him into a toad."
"I never got past invisibility in my magic lessons," Cimorene said.
"Transformations are advanced study."
The frog looked at her disapprovingly. "Can't you do anything?"
"I can curtsy," Cimorene said disgustedly. "I know seventeen different country dances, nine ways to agree with an ambassador from Cathay without actually promising him anything, and one hundred and forty-three embroidery stitches. And I can make cherries jubilee."
"Cherries jubilee?" asked the frog, and snapped at a passing fly.
"The castle chef taught me, before Father made him stop," Cimorene explained.
The frog munched briefly, then swallowed and said, "I suppose there's no help for it. You'll have to run away."
"Run away?" Cimorene said. "I don't like that idea. Too many things could go wrong."
"You don't like the idea of marrying Prince Therandil, either," the frog pointed out.
"Maybe I can think of some other way out of getting married."
The frog snorted. "Such as?" Cimorene didn't answer, and after a moment the frog said, "I thought so. Do you want my advice or not?"
"Yes, please," said Cimorene. After all, she didn't have to follow it.
"Go to the main road outside the city and follow it away from the mountains," said the frog. "After a while, you will come to a small pavilion made of gold, surrounded by trees made of silver with emerald leaves. Go straight past it without stopping, and don't answer if anyone calls out to you from the pavilion. Keep on until you reach a hovel. Walk straight up to the door and knock three times, then snap your fingers and go inside. You'll find some people there who can help you out of your difficulties if you're polite about asking and they're in the right mood. And that's all."
The frog turned abruptly and dove into the pool. "Thank you very much," Cimorene called after it, thinking that the frog's advice sounded very odd indeed. She rose and went back into the castle.
She spent the rest of the day being fitted and fussed over by her ladies-in-waiting until she was ready to scream. By the end of the formal banquet, at which she had to sit next to Prince Therandil and listen to endless stories of his prowess in battle, Cimorene was more than ready to take the frog's advice.
Late that night, when most of the castle was asleep, Cimorene bundled up five clean handkerchiefs and her best crown. Then she dug out the notes she had taken during her magic lessons and carefully cast a spell of invisibility.
It seemed to work, but she was still very watchful as she sneaked out of the castle. After all, it had been a long time since she had practiced.
By morning, Cimorene was well outside the city and visible again, walking down the main road that led away from the mountains. It was hot and dusty, and she began to wish she had brought a bottle of water instead of the handkerchiefs.
Just before noon, she spied a small grove of trees next to the road ahead of her. It looked like a cool, pleasant place to rest for a few minutes, and she hurried forward. When she reached the grove, however, she saw that the trees were made of the finest silver, and their shining green leaves were huge emeralds. In the center of the grove stood a charming pavilion made of gold and hung with gold curtains.
Cimorene slowed down and looked longingly at the cool green shade beneath the trees. Just then a woman's voice called out from the pavilion, "My dear, you look so tired and thirsty! Come and sit with me and share my luncheon."
The voice was so kind and coaxing that Cimorene took two steps toward the edge of the road before she remembered the frog's advice. Oh, no, she thought to herself, I'm not going to be caught this easily! She turned without saying anything and hurried on down the road.
A little farther on she came to a tiny, wretched-looking hovel made of cracked and weathered gray boards. The door hung slantwise on a broken hinge, and the whole building looked as though it were going to topple over at any moment. Cimorene stopped and stared doubtfully at it, but she had followed the frog's advice this far, and she thought it would be silly to stop now. So she shook the dust from her skirts and put on her crown (so as to make a good impression). She marched up to the door, knocked three times, and snapped her fingers just as the frog had told her. Then she pushed the door open and went in.
Inside, the hovel was dark and cool and damp.
Cimorene found it a pleasant relief after the hot, dusty road, but she wondered why no sunlight seemed to be coming through the cracks in the boards. She was still standing just inside the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, when someone said crossly, "Is this that princess we've been waiting for?"
"Why don't you ask her?" said a deep, rumbly voice.
"I'm Princess Cimorene of Linderwall," Cimorene answered politely.
"I was told you could help me."
"Help her?" said the first voice, and Cimorene heard a snort. "I think we should just eat her and be done with it."
Cimorene began to feel frightened. She wondered whether the voices belonged to ogres or trolls and whether she could slip out of the hovel before they made up their minds about eating her. She felt behind her for the door and started in surprise when her fingers touched damp stone instead of dry wood. Then a third voice said, "Not so fast, Woraug. Let's hear her story first."
So Cimorene took a deep breath and began to explain about the fencing lessons and the magic lessons, and the Latin and the juggling, and all the other things that weren't considered proper behavior for a princess, and she told the voices that she had run away from Sathem-by-the-Mountains to keep from having to marry Prince Therandil.
"And what do you expect us to do about it?" one of the voices asked curiously.
"I don't know," Cimorene said. "Except, of course, that I would rather not be eaten. I can't see who you are in this dark, you know."
"That can be fixed," said the voice. A moment later, a small ball of light appeared in the air above Cimorene's head. Cimorene stepped backward very quickly and ran into the wall.
The voices belonged to dragons.
Five of them lay on or sprawled over or curled around the various rocks and columns that filled the huge cave where Cimorene stood. Each of the males (there were three) had two short, stubby, sharp-looking horns on either side of their heads; the female dragon had three, one on each side and one in the center of her forehead. The last dragon was apparently still too young to have made up its mind which sex it wanted to be; it didn't have any horns at all.
Cimorene felt very frightened. The smallest of the dragons was easily three times as tall as she was, and they gave an overwhelming impression of shining green scales and sharp silver teeth. They were much scarier in person than in the pictures she remembered from her natural history books.
She swallowed very hard, wondering whether she really would rather be eaten by a dragon than marry Therandil.
"Well?" said the three-horned dragon just in front of her. 'Just what are you asking us to do for you?"
"I-" Cimorene stopped short as an idea occurred to her. Cautiously, she asked, "Dragons are… are fond of princesses, aren't they?"
"Very," said the dragon, and smiled. The smile showed all her teeth, which Cimorene did not find reassuring.
"That is, I've heard of dragons who have captive princesses to cook for them and-and so on," said Cimorene, who had very little idea what captive princesses did all day.
The dragon in front of Cimorene nodded. One of the others, a yellowish green in color, shifted restlessly and said, "Oh, let's just go ahead and eat her. It will save trouble."
Before any of the other dragons could answer, there was a loud, booming noise, and a sixth dragon slithered into the cave. His scales were more gray than green, and the dragons by the door made way for him respectfully.
"Kazul!" said the newcomer in a loud voice. "Achoo! Sorry I'm late, but a terrible thing happened on the way here, achoo!"
"What was it?" said the dragon to whom Cimorene had been talking.
"Ran into a wizard. Achoo! Had to eat him; no help for it. Achoo, achoo. And now look at me!" Every time the gray-green dragon sneezed, he emitted a small ball of fire that scorched the wall of the cave.