Puppeteer's Apprentice

( 3 )

Overview

Mouse, a timid orphan growing up in medieval England, has little happiness in the world. But then, when she comes across a puppeteer so talented that he can make the puppets talk and dance as if they were little humans, Mouse realizes that true happiness is within reach — and the key is learning how to make the puppets dance! What she doesn't realize, however, is just how much she and her prospective mentor have in common and how much, one day, they will share.

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Overview

Mouse, a timid orphan growing up in medieval England, has little happiness in the world. But then, when she comes across a puppeteer so talented that he can make the puppets talk and dance as if they were little humans, Mouse realizes that true happiness is within reach — and the key is learning how to make the puppets dance! What she doesn't realize, however, is just how much she and her prospective mentor have in common and how much, one day, they will share.

A medieval orphan girl called Mouse gains the courage she needs to follow her dreams of becoming a puppeteer's apprentice.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Kirkus Reviews, starred review A must-read.

School Library Journal, starred review A wonderfully written tale.

Publishers Weekly
In early 18th-century England, a runaway convinces a puppeteer to take her on as an apprentice. "This colorful novel is likely to interest fans of Karen Cushman's The Midwife's Apprentice, to which it often seems indebted," said PW. Ages 8-12. (Oct.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Children's Literature
Mouse is a young girl working in the scullery of a manor house in Medieval England who gets fed up with constantly being punished for her incompetence and her curiosity. When Mouse takes another serious beating, she runs away from the manor thinking that any life would be better than this one. On the road she encounters a puppet show and decides that becoming a puppeteer is the only thing she wants in the world. The puppeteer eventually agrees to apprentice her, but the arrangement is not always smooth sailing. When the puppeteer is attacked by rogues, Mouse realizes that there is more to the puppeteer's story then she is letting on. This story is reminiscent of "The Midwife's Apprentice" in both setting and the growth of the character. Even given the similarities, this book stands on its own for the 7-10 reader. The characterization is strong and Mouse's coming of age is well told and has some nice mysterious elements. I read it a few weeks back and Mouse's character has stayed with me. 2003, Simon & Schuster,
— Joan Kindig
School Library Journal
Gr 4-6-Abandoned at Dunston Manor as a baby, Mouse was raised as a scullery maid and brutally treated for years. When Cook slashes her face with a meat hook in anger, the child takes to the road. She meets some kindly travelers, but is reminded again and again that she is on her own. Then she happens upon a puppet show, and is completely mesmerized. She asks to become the puppeteer's apprentice, but is flatly turned down. Despite the rejection, she stows away on top of the wagon, and again begs the performer to teach her how to make the puppets come alive. This time, she is grudgingly accepted. As they travel the countryside, Mouse cooks and cleans and, in return, learns the art and craft of a puppeteer. She is a quick study, whether bargaining with vendors, carving wooden figures, or manipulating puppet strings. But a dark figure lurks around the edges of the story, and the puppet theaters. Ordin makes Mouse edgy, although she doesn't know why, and readers will feel the suspense begin to build. The puppeteer, who Mouse learns is a woman traveling in disguise, is slow to reveal anything personal about her past. As the story reaches a sinister climax, she learns the puppeteer's secrets, which prove deadly. Searching throughout the story for her own identity, Mouse ultimately receives a name and experiences great sorrow on her way to fulfilling her dreams. Set in England in the Middle Ages, this wonderfully written tale holds mystery, suspense, and the realism that comes with a battle fought and won.-Kit Vaughan, Chesterfield County Public Schools, VA Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Love (A Year Without Rain, 2000, etc.), as love often does, offers magic, high spirits, and adventure. When her story opens, Mouse is a scullery maid who is like the puppets she comes to know: "waiting in the dark of their trunk for something wondrous to happen." Though advised to find a safe life "with a family of flesh and blood instead of wood and wool," Mouse knows that she and the puppet master she befriends are meant to travel together, and she learns that the magic of the puppets is only transcended by the happiness they bring to others. Learning the art of puppetry but losing the puppeteer, Mouse must pursue her calling and find her true name alone. Later, she marvels that "a girl born with nothing at all, not even a name, could by sharp wits and hard work make a place in the world." Colorful, lively, rhythmic language and a strong sense of medieval England make this a great read-aloud, a tale full of magic, deadly swordfights with thieves, and one young girl's finding the courage to pursue her dream. The pace never falters, the characterizations are strong, and readers young and old will feel a bit more emboldened to meet the road as it rises up to meet them. A must-read in the grand storytelling tradition of Lloyd Alexander and Karen Cushman. (author's note, bibliography) (Fiction. 8-12)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780689844256
  • Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
  • Publication date: 10/1/2004
  • Series: Aladdin Historical Fiction Ser.
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 192
  • Sales rank: 645,475
  • Age range: 8 - 12 Years
  • Product dimensions: 5.20 (w) x 8.04 (h) x 0.52 (d)

Meet the Author

D. Anne Love is the author of several award-winning novels for young readers, including Defying the Diva, Picture Perfect, Semiprecious, and The Puppeteer’s Apprentice. Ms. Love lives in Texas hill country with her husband, Ron, and Major and Jake, their book-loving golden retrievers. You can visit her online at dannelove.com.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One: An Ending

Long ago and far away, on a morning that was not quite winter and not quite spring, Lord and Lady Dunston bade all who lived at the manor to a gathering in the great hall. The farriers and stableboys, the dairymaids with their pails, the weavers and spinners and serving girls set aside their work and hurried along the stone corridors, gossiping all the way. Mayhap Lord Dunston was off to war again, they whispered. Mayhap his lady soon would bring forth a new child.

When the summons reached the kitchen, Cook dropped his spoons and mopped his shiny red face. "Make haste, Fenn," he said to the ferret-faced baker, who was at that moment taking a loaf of bread from the fire. "We must not keep them waiting."

The scullery maid, a skinny, sad-eyed girl in a dirt-brown tunic, gazed longingly at the golden loaf, her belly tight with hunger. But the bread was not meant for the likes of her. She ignored her rumbling stomach and hurriedly tossed the turnips she'd just peeled into the black kettle bubbling in the hearth. In all her years at Dunston Manor, she had caught only fleeting glimpses of the lord and his lady. Her days were spent peeling onions, washing pots, and carrying Fenn's pastries from hearth to table. At night she slept on the stone floor among the fleas and vermin, surrounded by the odd bits of beauty she had collected in her short and somber life — a scrap of purple ribbon rescued from a branch in the orchard, a blue glass bead found on the path to the privy, a sliver of polished metal that gave back her reflection, large dark eyes in a thin and determined face.

Sometimes, when Cook was too busy to notice her absence, she stole away to her hiding place near the solar. There, with her ear pressed firmly to the damp wall, she listened to snippets of conversations of the serving girls and chambermaids, to the tales of passing visitors, or to the solemn voice of some visiting priest reading from a holy book — wishing she could read such comforting stories for herself, wishing she had someone with whom she could share her secrets, wishing she might travel to faraway places. But she was not thinking such thoughts today.

Today, something important was astir, and she longed to be a part of it.

"Not you, Mouse!" Cook cried when he saw the expectant look on her face. "Stay here and tend this pot. And clear those turnip peels off the floor. If Lord Dunston's news has aught to do with you, you will know it soon enough."

Taking up his flesh hook, he poked the slab of venison simmering in its soup of leeks and cabbage. "See this meat does not burn, else there will be the devil to pay."

"Drat!" the girl muttered. "Why must I be left behind to sweep and stir?"

"What?" Cook growled, mopping his face again.

"I merely said, 'Yes, sir.'"

Satisfied, Cook nodded, hung his apron on its peg beside the door, then set off toward the great hall, Fenn trotting like an obedient puppy at his heels.

Mouse intended to obey Cook, but the air of mysterious excitement permeating the very walls of the manor house, and her own considerable curiosity, soon overcame her better judgment. She gave the pot another stir, tossed more wood onto the fire, then scurried up the dark stone steps just in time to see Cook's ample rump, and Fenn's skinny one, disappearing down the corridor. Following at a safe distance, she hurried along the hallway, past the weaving room, then up more stairs, till she came to the tall doors guarding the great hall. There, she pressed herself into a dark corner.

Above the iron bolt, where the wooden door had split, was a crack just wide enough for Mouse to see everyone who had assembled behind long wooden tables where the morning meal had recently concluded. Mouse spied Cook and Fenn and the rosy-cheeked chambermaids, all whispering together. Lady Dunston's attendants stood by her side, resplendent in their embroidered gowns and headpieces. Lady Dunston herself wore a gown of blue velvet and a gold circlet on her head.

Lord Dunston tapped his silver-headed cane upon the floor, and the room went still.

"Lady Dunston and I are happy to announce the betrothal of our daughter, Penelope, to Sir Geoffrey of Fairfax," he said. Everyone applauded. From her hiding place in the shadows, Mouse clapped too.

"Where is Penelope?" one of the ladies asked. "Bring her here so that we may give her our good wishes."

"She is so overcome with joy, she has taken to her bed," Lord Dunston replied. "But a day of rest will put her to rights."

"Taken to her bed, is she?" murmured one of the serving girls to her companion. Mouse pressed closer to listen.

"She is overcome, but not with joy, I trow," the other replied. "Wrinkled as a prune, that Geoffrey is. Hair like a haystack. And none too bright, either, from the looks of him."

"But he owns half the land twixt here and the sea, or so they say," returned the first. "And Penelope is getting on in years herself. Twenty-three last summer, if I remember rightly. Lord Dunston is wise to arrange such a match before she is too old to be a wife to anyone."

Lord Dunston tapped his cane again. "The wedding will commence in a fortnight," he said. "You must begin preparations at once. Lady Dunston and I wish it to be the finest celebration in the realm."

A wedding! Such a celebration meant musicians with flutes and lyres and tambourines, or so Fenn said. Jesters there would be, and dancing and merriment and a feast fit for the king himself. Mayhap the lord and his lady would invite even Mouse, the lowest of the low. She would wear her purple ribbon and a flower in her hair. She must learn to curtsy, she thought, and to speak a proper greeting. A delicious shiver traveled down her spine.

Inside the great hall another round of cheering and applause erupted as the lord and his lady bowed their heads and took their leave by the doors at the far end of the hall. Then the door next to Mouse's hiding place opened, and everyone spilled out, laughing and chattering all at once. Mouse crouched in the shadows and waited for them to pass. She dared not show herself and risk Cook's vile temper. More than once he had cursed her, or cuffed her cheeks till her ears rang, for even the smallest of mistakes. If she dropped a bowl upon the floor or forgot to add salt to the bread, he called her an addlebrained clod, a muddleheaded lout, or worse. It was best to wait till the room was empty, then return to the kitchen through the far doors, well ahead of Cook and Fenn.

At last the hall was deserted. Mouse hastened inside, pulling the heavy door closed behind her.

If only she had kept to her plan, everything that happened later would not have happened at all. But as soon as she entered the hall, her gaze was fastened to the gleaming tapestries on the walls and she could not move. Colorful birds, angels, and flowers, scenes of knights on horseback and ladies in gardens seemed to spring to life before her eyes. She could almost hear the ladies talking quietly as they bent low over their needlework awaiting the knights' return. She could just imagine the stories the men would tell, stories of adventure and noble deeds performed in the service of the king.

Then on the long tables, amid empty goblets and a forest of candlesticks dripping wax, Mouse saw the remains of the morning meal. Here was a half-eaten meat pie and a bit of peacock, shiny with raisin sauce; there a morsel of fine white bread sticky with honey. Mouse's stomach rumbled, for her breakfast had been nothing more than a crust of stale bread and a bowl of cold cabbage, slick with grease. Almost before she knew it, she gobbled the last of the meat pie and a handful of figs and tucked another pie inside her tunic. On her way to the doors leading to the courtyard, she spied an apple tart and ate that, too, in three quick bites. She licked her fingers clean, then pushed open the doors and went out.

"You there! Stop!" A man carrying a bucket and a sack grabbed her arm and twisted so hard, Mouse yelped. The meat pie she had hidden in her tunic landed with a plop on the cobblestones. "Aha! Just as I suspected! Stealing from the poor."

It was the almoner, whose job it was to collect table scraps for the needy. Cook said such charity was one way the lord and his lady kept themselves in the good graces of the villagers.

"Leave me be!" Mouse yelled, struggling with all her might to break free. "I am no thief, but Cook's own helper."

Just then Cook appeared, brandishing his flesh hook. "So there you are, you miserable wretch! Did I not tell you to tend the meat? Now it is burned black as tar, and I will get the blame!"

The almoner tightened his grip on Mouse's arm. "She has stolen food, too. Right off the lord's own table. Caught her, I did, stuffing herself like a Christmas goose, while the poor in the village have neither bread nor ale to stop their hunger." He glared at Mouse. "Mayhap I should take her to Lord Dunston. He will know how to deal with the likes of her."

"Lord Dunston has more important things on his mind," Cook said. "Leave her to me."

The almoner flung Mouse onto the hard cobblestones. "Next time I will flog you myself! Thief!"

He stomped into the great hall, his boots ringing on the stone steps.

"Well?" Cook loomed over the cowering Mouse.

"I am sorry." Mouse's voice trembled. Her stomach squeezed with fright. "I was hungry."

Behind her the kitchen door creaked open, and Fenn dumped the ruined venison into a slop pail, where it floated, black and crusty, among rotting turnips, browning apples, and gray meat full of squirming maggots.

"Hungry, are you?" Cook mocked. "And my bread and cabbage are not good enough, I suppose. You may be a mouse, but you have the manners of a pig!"

Before she could reply, he twisted her ear, jerked her to her feet, and propelled her toward the stinking slop pail. "Eat, pig!" he commanded, pushing her face into the pail.

"I will not!" Mouse pulled and squirmed, but try as she might, she could not free herself from Cook's viselike grasp.

"Oh, yes, you will." With his meat hook, he speared a slab of maggoty pork and pushed it into her face. "Eat, if you are so hungry. Eat every bite!"

Mouse's stomach pitched and roiled. Feeling hot and cold all at once, she twisted her head away, but not before spewing vomit over Cook's white apron and the tops of his shoes. Bits of meat pie clung to his hair, his eyelashes, his wiry black beard.

Bellowing with rage, he raised his meat hook and raked it savagely across Mouse's cheek. The spoiled meat fell to the ground.

At first she stood there, stunned, while a warm, sticky trickle of blood ran down her face. She wiped her cheek and stared at her bloody hand, too full of shock and fear to feel pain. Cook raised the meat hook again. But before he could land another blow, the wall of fear and loneliness that had been building inside Mouse all her life suddenly broke. And she ran. Across the rain-slick courtyard, then out through the great stone arch and over the newly plowed fields to the road.

"Stop her!" Cook yelled, but the planters did not hear and went on with their sowing and raking.

Mouse ran until the house disappeared from view. Then the pain began, so hot and fierce, it nearly stole her breath. But she went on until at last her legs buckled, and she stopped beside an icy stream. With the dampened hem of her tunic, she bathed her wound. As the cold water numbed her pain and her breathing slowed, the full weight of her plight filled her mind.

"Saints in heaven! What have I done now?" she said aloud.

Many times, after one of Cook's thrashings, she had thought of running away. Once she had actually tried it, but she'd soon been returned to the scullery. And mayhap it was just as well, for where could she go, a girl with nothing? No family. Not even a proper name.

Abandoned as a babe on the steps of Dunston Manor, she had been called Mouse all her life. She could not say how many twelvemonths had passed since her birth. Once, when she had begged Cook to tell her when and why she had come to Dunston Manor, he had said, in his exasperated way, that mayhap she was eleven. Or twelve. As to the reason she had been left to the mercy of strangers, Cook said it was obvious, was it not? She was not wanted. And no wonder. She was scrawny and ugly and clumsy as a cow. Not the kind of girl anyone was wont to keep. It was only at Lady Dunston's insistence that she had been taken into the scullery in exchange for her unceasing labor.

At first Mouse had refused to believe him. She imagined she was lost or had been left at Dunston by some horrid mistake that soon would be righted. At night, listening to the scrabbling of the rats in the kitchen, she pictured a beautiful princess with golden hair searching the realm for her lost daughter. But as time passed, each season sliding into the next, she realized such thoughts were useless and accepted her lot. At least she had a roof over her head and a scrap of food each day.

Now she was alone, without any prospects in the world, without a single coin in her pocket, nor anyone to help her. Lying on the ground while the cold wind tore at her thin tunic, Mouse felt exactly like her namesake, small and despised and unimportant. Another girl might have wept at the hopelessness of it, but Mouse had learned tears would not change anything.

"I will not cry," she said aloud to the shivering trees. With one hand pressed to her wounded cheek, she looked around for shelter from the cold rain that had begun to fall and at last burrowed into a pile of rotting leaves beside the road, where she passed a long, sleepless night.

The next morning the weather was still cold and damp, and Mouse was still hurt and alone. Her cheek throbbed. Her stomach felt as if it had stuck to her backbone, but there was nothing at all to eat. She broke the thin film of ice that had formed on the stream and filled her groaning belly. Then, because she had nothing to do and nowhere to go, she scurried back to her bed of leaves and lay there trying to decide what to do.

Presently an oxcart brimming with straw and cabbages trundled down the road. Mouse watched as the driver halted the cart and led the ox to drink, poking the ice with his staff till it broke with a faint tinkling sound. While he was busy, she stole into the cart and hid beneath the mound of dry straw. Still she had no plan for her future; she knew only that she could not go back to Dunston Manor.

The cart squeaked and shifted beneath the driver's weight. The ox snorted as the cart lurched along the road. Mouse poked a hole through the straw and breathed in the cold morning air. Beneath her fingers her wounded cheek oozed and burned fiercely, as if she had strayed too close to Cook's hearth.

She peered out across a field of brown stubble. Beneath a stand of rain-washed trees, two farmers were mending a stone fence. The cart rolled on, past a woman tending her geese, past a goat boy with his herd, past a man on a prancing horse.

Late in the morning Mouse spied in the distance a scattering of thatched roofs and a few stone buildings of a village. Her old life was at an end. A new one was beginning, though she could not yet imagine it.

Copyright © 2003 by D. Anne Love

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Table of Contents

Contents

CHAPTER ONE.....An Ending

CHAPTER TWO.....The Travelers

CHAPTER THREE.....The Inn

CHAPTER FOUR.....The Puppeteer

CHAPTER FIVE.....Mouse Is Discovered

CHAPTER SIX.....Mouse Discovers a Secret

CHAPTER SEVEN.....The Puppet Play

CHAPTER EIGHT.....The Goose Woman's Tale

CHAPTER NINE.....A Dream Fulfilled

CHAPTER TEN.....Marbury Wood

CHAPTER ELEVEN.....Gimingham

CHAPTER TWELVE.....The Puppeteer's Tale

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.....A Beginning

AUTHOR'S NOTE

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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First Chapter

Chapter One: An Ending

Long ago and far away, on a morning that was not quite winter and not quite spring, Lord and Lady Dunston bade all who lived at the manor to a gathering in the great hall. The farriers and stableboys, the dairymaids with their pails, the weavers and spinners and serving girls set aside their work and hurried along the stone corridors, gossiping all the way. Mayhap Lord Dunston was off to war again, they whispered. Mayhap his lady soon would bring forth a new child.

When the summons reached the kitchen, Cook dropped his spoons and mopped his shiny red face. "Make haste, Fenn," he said to the ferret-faced baker, who was at that moment taking a loaf of bread from the fire. "We must not keep them waiting."

The scullery maid, a skinny, sad-eyed girl in a dirt-brown tunic, gazed longingly at the golden loaf, her belly tight with hunger. But the bread was not meant for the likes of her. She ignored her rumbling stomach and hurriedly tossed the turnips she'd just peeled into the black kettle bubbling in the hearth. In all her years at Dunston Manor, she had caught only fleeting glimpses of the lord and his lady. Her days were spent peeling onions, washing pots, and carrying Fenn's pastries from hearth to table. At night she slept on the stone floor among the fleas and vermin, surrounded by the odd bits of beauty she had collected in her short and somber life -- a scrap of purple ribbon rescued from a branch in the orchard, a blue glass bead found on the path to the privy, a sliver of polished metal that gave back her reflection, large dark eyes in a thin and determined face.

Sometimes, when Cook was too busy to notice her absence, she stole away to her hiding place near the solar. There, with her ear pressed firmly to the damp wall, she listened to snippets of conversations of the serving girls and chambermaids, to the tales of passing visitors, or to the solemn voice of some visiting priest reading from a holy book -- wishing she could read such comforting stories for herself, wishing she had someone with whom she could share her secrets, wishing she might travel to faraway places. But she was not thinking such thoughts today.

Today, something important was astir, and she longed to be a part of it.

"Not you, Mouse!" Cook cried when he saw the expectant look on her face. "Stay here and tend this pot. And clear those turnip peels off the floor. If Lord Dunston's news has aught to do with you, you will know it soon enough."

Taking up his flesh hook, he poked the slab of venison simmering in its soup of leeks and cabbage. "See this meat does not burn, else there will be the devil to pay."

"Drat!" the girl muttered. "Why must I be left behind to sweep and stir?"

"What?" Cook growled, mopping his face again.

"I merely said, 'Yes, sir.'"

Satisfied, Cook nodded, hung his apron on its peg beside the door, then set off toward the great hall, Fenn trotting like an obedient puppy at his heels.

Mouse intended to obey Cook, but the air of mysterious excitement permeating the very walls of the manor house, and her own considerable curiosity, soon overcame her better judgment. She gave the pot another stir, tossed more wood onto the fire, then scurried up the dark stone steps just in time to see Cook's ample rump, and Fenn's skinny one, disappearing down the corridor. Following at a safe distance, she hurried along the hallway, past the weaving room, then up more stairs, till she came to the tall doors guarding the great hall. There, she pressed herself into a dark corner.

Above the iron bolt, where the wooden door had split, was a crack just wide enough for Mouse to see everyone who had assembled behind long wooden tables where the morning meal had recently concluded. Mouse spied Cook and Fenn and the rosy-cheeked chambermaids, all whispering together. Lady Dunston's attendants stood by her side, resplendent in their embroidered gowns and headpieces. Lady Dunston herself wore a gown of blue velvet and a gold circlet on her head.

Lord Dunston tapped his silver-headed cane upon the floor, and the room went still.

"Lady Dunston and I are happy to announce the betrothal of our daughter, Penelope, to Sir Geoffrey of Fairfax," he said. Everyone applauded. From her hiding place in the shadows, Mouse clapped too.

"Where is Penelope?" one of the ladies asked. "Bring her here so that we may give her our good wishes."

"She is so overcome with joy, she has taken to her bed," Lord Dunston replied. "But a day of rest will put her to rights."

"Taken to her bed, is she?" murmured one of the serving girls to her companion. Mouse pressed closer to listen.

"She is overcome, but not with joy, I trow," the other replied. "Wrinkled as a prune, that Geoffrey is. Hair like a haystack. And none too bright, either, from the looks of him."

"But he owns half the land twixt here and the sea, or so they say," returned the first. "And Penelope is getting on in years herself. Twenty-three last summer, if I remember rightly. Lord Dunston is wise to arrange such a match before she is too old to be a wife to anyone."

Lord Dunston tapped his cane again. "The wedding will commence in a fortnight," he said. "You must begin preparations at once. Lady Dunston and I wish it to be the finest celebration in the realm."

A wedding! Such a celebration meant musicians with flutes and lyres and tambourines, or so Fenn said. Jesters there would be, and dancing and merriment and a feast fit for the king himself. Mayhap the lord and his lady would invite even Mouse, the lowest of the low. She would wear her purple ribbon and a flower in her hair. She must learn to curtsy, she thought, and to speak a proper greeting. A delicious shiver traveled down her spine.

Inside the great hall another round of cheering and applause erupted as the lord and his lady bowed their heads and took their leave by the doors at the far end of the hall. Then the door next to Mouse's hiding place opened, and everyone spilled out, laughing and chattering all at once. Mouse crouched in the shadows and waited for them to pass. She dared not show herself and risk Cook's vile temper. More than once he had cursed her, or cuffed her cheeks till her ears rang, for even the smallest of mistakes. If she dropped a bowl upon the floor or forgot to add salt to the bread, he called her an addlebrained clod, a muddleheaded lout, or worse. It was best to wait till the room was empty, then return to the kitchen through the far doors, well ahead of Cook and Fenn.

At last the hall was deserted. Mouse hastened inside, pulling the heavy door closed behind her.

If only she had kept to her plan, everything that happened later would not have happened at all. But as soon as she entered the hall, her gaze was fastened to the gleaming tapestries on the walls and she could not move. Colorful birds, angels, and flowers, scenes of knights on horseback and ladies in gardens seemed to spring to life before her eyes. She could almost hear the ladies talking quietly as they bent low over their needlework awaiting the knights' return. She could just imagine the stories the men would tell, stories of adventure and noble deeds performed in the service of the king.

Then on the long tables, amid empty goblets and a forest of candlesticks dripping wax, Mouse saw the remains of the morning meal. Here was a half-eaten meat pie and a bit of peacock, shiny with raisin sauce; there a morsel of fine white bread sticky with honey. Mouse's stomach rumbled, for her breakfast had been nothing more than a crust of stale bread and a bowl of cold cabbage, slick with grease. Almost before she knew it, she gobbled the last of the meat pie and a handful of figs and tucked another pie inside her tunic. On her way to the doors leading to the courtyard, she spied an apple tart and ate that, too, in three quick bites. She licked her fingers clean, then pushed open the doors and went out.

"You there! Stop!" A man carrying a bucket and a sack grabbed her arm and twisted so hard, Mouse yelped. The meat pie she had hidden in her tunic landed with a plop on the cobblestones. "Aha! Just as I suspected! Stealing from the poor."

It was the almoner, whose job it was to collect table scraps for the needy. Cook said such charity was one way the lord and his lady kept themselves in the good graces of the villagers.

"Leave me be!" Mouse yelled, struggling with all her might to break free. "I am no thief, but Cook's own helper."

Just then Cook appeared, brandishing his flesh hook. "So there you are, you miserable wretch! Did I not tell you to tend the meat? Now it is burned black as tar, and I will get the blame!"

The almoner tightened his grip on Mouse's arm. "She has stolen food, too. Right off the lord's own table. Caught her, I did, stuffing herself like a Christmas goose, while the poor in the village have neither bread nor ale to stop their hunger." He glared at Mouse. "Mayhap I should take her to Lord Dunston. He will know how to deal with the likes of her."

"Lord Dunston has more important things on his mind," Cook said. "Leave her to me."

The almoner flung Mouse onto the hard cobblestones. "Next time I will flog you myself! Thief!"

He stomped into the great hall, his boots ringing on the stone steps.

"Well?" Cook loomed over the cowering Mouse.

"I am sorry." Mouse's voice trembled. Her stomach squeezed with fright. "I was hungry."

Behind her the kitchen door creaked open, and Fenn dumped the ruined venison into a slop pail, where it floated, black and crusty, among rotting turnips, browning apples, and gray meat full of squirming maggots.

"Hungry, are you?" Cook mocked. "And my bread and cabbage are not good enough, I suppose. You may be a mouse, but you have the manners of a pig!"

Before she could reply, he twisted her ear, jerked her to her feet, and propelled her toward the stinking slop pail. "Eat, pig!" he commanded, pushing her face into the pail.

"I will not!" Mouse pulled and squirmed, but try as she might, she could not free herself from Cook's viselike grasp.

"Oh, yes, you will." With his meat hook, he speared a slab of maggoty pork and pushed it into her face. "Eat, if you are so hungry. Eat every bite!"

Mouse's stomach pitched and roiled. Feeling hot and cold all at once, she twisted her head away, but not before spewing vomit over Cook's white apron and the tops of his shoes. Bits of meat pie clung to his hair, his eyelashes, his wiry black beard.

Bellowing with rage, he raised his meat hook and raked it savagely across Mouse's cheek. The spoiled meat fell to the ground.

At first she stood there, stunned, while a warm, sticky trickle of blood ran down her face. She wiped her cheek and stared at her bloody hand, too full of shock and fear to feel pain. Cook raised the meat hook again. But before he could land another blow, the wall of fear and loneliness that had been building inside Mouse all her life suddenly broke. And she ran. Across the rain-slick courtyard, then out through the great stone arch and over the newly plowed fields to the road.

"Stop her!" Cook yelled, but the planters did not hear and went on with their sowing and raking.

Mouse ran until the house disappeared from view. Then the pain began, so hot and fierce, it nearly stole her breath. But she went on until at last her legs buckled, and she stopped beside an icy stream. With the dampened hem of her tunic, she bathed her wound. As the cold water numbed her pain and her breathing slowed, the full weight of her plight filled her mind.

"Saints in heaven! What have I done now?" she said aloud.

Many times, after one of Cook's thrashings, she had thought of running away. Once she had actually tried it, but she'd soon been returned to the scullery. And mayhap it was just as well, for where could she go, a girl with nothing? No family. Not even a proper name.

Abandoned as a babe on the steps of Dunston Manor, she had been called Mouse all her life. She could not say how many twelvemonths had passed since her birth. Once, when she had begged Cook to tell her when and why she had come to Dunston Manor, he had said, in his exasperated way, that mayhap she was eleven. Or twelve. As to the reason she had been left to the mercy of strangers, Cook said it was obvious, was it not? She was not wanted. And no wonder. She was scrawny and ugly and clumsy as a cow. Not the kind of girl anyone was wont to keep. It was only at Lady Dunston's insistence that she had been taken into the scullery in exchange for her unceasing labor.

At first Mouse had refused to believe him. She imagined she was lost or had been left at Dunston by some horrid mistake that soon would be righted. At night, listening to the scrabbling of the rats in the kitchen, she pictured a beautiful princess with golden hair searching the realm for her lost daughter. But as time passed, each season sliding into the next, she realized such thoughts were useless and accepted her lot. At least she had a roof over her head and a scrap of food each day.

Now she was alone, without any prospects in the world, without a single coin in her pocket, nor anyone to help her. Lying on the ground while the cold wind tore at her thin tunic, Mouse felt exactly like her namesake, small and despised and unimportant. Another girl might have wept at the hopelessness of it, but Mouse had learned tears would not change anything.

"I will not cry," she said aloud to the shivering trees. With one hand pressed to her wounded cheek, she looked around for shelter from the cold rain that had begun to fall and at last burrowed into a pile of rotting leaves beside the road, where she passed a long, sleepless night.


The next morning the weather was still cold and damp, and Mouse was still hurt and alone. Her cheek throbbed. Her stomach felt as if it had stuck to her backbone, but there was nothing at all to eat. She broke the thin film of ice that had formed on the stream and filled her groaning belly. Then, because she had nothing to do and nowhere to go, she scurried back to her bed of leaves and lay there trying to decide what to do.

Presently an oxcart brimming with straw and cabbages trundled down the road. Mouse watched as the driver halted the cart and led the ox to drink, poking the ice with his staff till it broke with a faint tinkling sound. While he was busy, she stole into the cart and hid beneath the mound of dry straw. Still she had no plan for her future; she knew only that she could not go back to Dunston Manor.

The cart squeaked and shifted beneath the driver's weight. The ox snorted as the cart lurched along the road. Mouse poked a hole through the straw and breathed in the cold morning air. Beneath her fingers her wounded cheek oozed and burned fiercely, as if she had strayed too close to Cook's hearth.

She peered out across a field of brown stubble. Beneath a stand of rain-washed trees, two farmers were mending a stone fence. The cart rolled on, past a woman tending her geese, past a goat boy with his herd, past a man on a prancing horse.

Late in the morning Mouse spied in the distance a scattering of thatched roofs and a few stone buildings of a village. Her old life was at an end. A new one was beginning, though she could not yet imagine it.

Copyright © 2003 by D. Anne Love

Read More Show Less

Introduction

A GUIDE FOR READING GROUPS

THE PUPPETEER'S APPRENTICE

By D. Anne Love

ABOUT THE BOOK

In medieval Europe, an orphan girl called Mouse gains the courage she needs to follow her dreams of becoming a puppeteer's apprentice.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

• Simon Swan said, "A man's soul must be fed as well as his belly." What does Simon mean by "feeding a soul"? Do you think that this is true, and why or why not? What kinds of things feed your soul: music, a good book, a visit with a friend?

• Names or the lack thereof are very important to this story. Mouse does not know her real name. What does her nickname say about her? Does her name reflect her personality? We also don't know the puppeteer's name. What reasons might the author have for keeping it secret?

• What is an apprentice? If you could be an apprentice, where would you work and what would you do?

• Many of the plays the puppeteer performed were historical tales like Noah and the Ark, King Arthur, and the story of St. George and the Dragon. These tales were well known to the audience, but they enjoyed hearing them again and again. Why do you think these stories were so popular? Can you think of stories that you like to hear over and over?

• Why did Mouse (Sabine) decide to leave the kind duke and his family to follow in her mentor's footsteps as a puppeteer?

ACTIVITIES

• Essay: Have students research and write about the meaning of their names. They could interview parents and/or relatives to find out why they were so named. Focus on positive self-discovery in having them detail how their own names reflect who they are or who they want to be.

• One of the plays that Mouse performs is the story of King Arthur. Research the tale of King Arthur. Retell the story in class or show an educational film. Have students visit the library and create bibliography cards for a set amount of resources containing information on this subject.

• Make an imaginary map of the townships, woods, and castles that Mouse visits. For fun, "age" the paper using vinegar water and tearing techniques.

• Separate students into groups and instruct them to write and put on a puppet play. It can be helpful to give them some guidance on a story: for example: rewrite a favorite folktale or fairy tale.

• Students can make puppets and design a stage. Students can be the puppets, using jerky puppetlike movements, while team members speak for them. If available, use real string puppets to demonstrate the art of puppetry movement.

This reading group guide is for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes.

Prepared by Tabitha Hogan

© William Allen White Children's Book Award

Please visit http://www.emporia.edu/libsv/wawbookaward/ for more information about the awards and to see curriculum guides for other master list titles.

D. Anne Love is the author of several award-winning novels for young readers, including Defying the Diva, Picture Perfect, Semiprecious, and The Puppeteer's Apprentice. Ms. Love lives in Texas hill country with her husband, Ron, and Major and Jake, their book-loving golden retrievers. You can visit her online at dannelove.com.

Read More Show Less

Reading Group Guide

A GUIDE FOR READING GROUPS

THE PUPPETEER'S APPRENTICE

By D. Anne Love

ABOUT THE BOOK

In medieval Europe, an orphan girl called Mouse gains the courage she needs to follow her dreams of becoming a puppeteer's apprentice.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

• Simon Swan said, "A man's soul must be fed as well as his belly." What does Simon mean by "feeding a soul"? Do you think that this is true, and why or why not? What kinds of things feed your soul: music, a good book, a visit with a friend?

• Names or the lack thereof are very important to this story. Mouse does not know her real name. What does her nickname say about her? Does her name reflect her personality? We also don't know the puppeteer's name. What reasons might the author have for keeping it secret?

• What is an apprentice? If you could be an apprentice, where would you work and what would you do?

• Many of the plays the puppeteer performed were historical tales like Noah and the Ark, King Arthur, and the story of St. George and the Dragon. These tales were well known to the audience, but they enjoyed hearing them again and again. Why do you think these stories were so popular? Can you think of stories that you like to hear over and over?

• Why did Mouse (Sabine) decide to leave the kind duke and his family to follow in her mentor's footsteps as a puppeteer?

ACTIVITIES

• Essay: Have students research and write about the meaning of their names. They could interview parents and/or relatives to find out why they were so named. Focus on positive self-discovery in having them detail how their own names reflect who they are or who they want to be.

• One of the plays that Mouse performs is the story of King Arthur. Research the tale of King Arthur. Retell the story in class or show an educational film. Have students visit the library and create bibliography cards for a set amount of resources containing information on this subject.

• Make an imaginary map of the townships, woods, and castles that Mouse visits. For fun, "age" the paper using vinegar water and tearing techniques.

• Separate students into groups and instruct them to write and put on a puppet play. It can be helpful to give them some guidance on a story: for example: rewrite a favorite folktale or fairy tale.

• Students can make puppets and design a stage. Students can be the puppets, using jerky puppetlike movements, while team members speak for them. If available, use real string puppets to demonstrate the art of puppetry movement.

This reading group guide is for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes.

Prepared by Tabitha Hogan

© William Allen White Children's Book Award

Please visit http://www.emporia.edu/libsv/wawbookaward/ for more information about the awards and to see curriculum guides for other master list titles.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 24, 2004

    Great book!

    I heared about this book from my cousin. She said it was really good. So I read it and agree very much with her,(although, it could have been a bit longer).

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 26, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    Great book for a rainy day. ^_^

    I first saw this book at the library while browsing the aisle for a book for my sister. At first, the title was interesting, the cover looked a bit creepy, but the summary was good, so I decided to give it a try also. Throughout the book, I was not disappointed and had enjoy this book to the fullest. After reading this book, I am never going to see puppeteers the same way again. I recommend this book to readers who like to read books that takes place during the medieval times. I hope you enjoy this book as I have. ^^

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

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