“
Oh!” the Queen said, visibly shaken. “Is that a cupcake?” The crowning glory of the dessert table was a tower of pink flamingo feather cupcakes. Red turned to the royal baker, who was quivering in their boots. “Ma’am…Your Majesty, I’m so sorry….I found an old recipe of yours….” “Get it out of my sight!” the Queen hissed. Then she patted her brow with a red handkerchief. Red wondered what that was all about. She’d never seen her mother fall apart at the sight of a cupcake before. Then again, she realized she’d never really seen a cupcake before either. She wondered what they tasted like. But perhaps she’d never know, since the baker was taking a tray of them away. The Queen clapped again, back to looking like herself. “So! Birthdays are still illegal. Treats are discouraged! Especially cupcakes. What’s more, all laughter should be avoided before noon—it simply is not good for your heart to laugh so early! Perhaps it’s better not to laugh at all! This obviously means that jokes shall only be told every other Saturday, if one feels the absolute need.” But from her tone it was clear that no one should ever feel the need to tell a joke.
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