It was a quiet morning in the castle courtyard.
Leo sat on a fallen barrel, tossing bread crumbs to the chickens, who clucked happily while pecking at them in the mud. Magus lay flat on his stomach in the grass, his nose buried deep in a thick spellbook from the Library of Whispering Books.
“If I’m reading this correctly,” he murmured, “this hat should enhance thinking.”
He glanced at Leo and smiled sheepishly. “Or was it singing?”
He took off his wizard’s hat — a pointed, slightly dented hat embroidered with little stars — and placed it beside him on the grass.
Leo laughed and tried to hit the hat with bread crumbs.
The plump hen Brunhilde noticed, came running over, pecked up the crumbs — and then sat herself right on top of the hat.
Plop!
A soft shower of sparks fizzed, and Brunhilde jumped up.
“Good morning, common folk!” she cried, chest puffed out proudly.
Leo’s eyes went wide. “Magus… did that chicken just talk?”
Magus blinked. “Uh. Apparently, yes.”
Brunhilde strutted across the courtyard, flapping her wings and shouting orders.
“I am Queen Brunhilde, ruler of coop and porridge! Build me a palace of straw at once!”
She herded the chickens into neat rows and pinned a feather onto one hen as a “knightly order.”
Leo giggled until he hiccupped, but Magus was not amused at all.
“Oh no,” he groaned, smacking his forehead. “The thought enhancer! She thinks she’s a queen now!”
He looked at Brunhilde and called out, “You’re not a queen — you’re just a hen!”
Brunhilde squawked in outrage and fluttered up into a tree.
“Insult to the crown!” she shouted. “Seize that man!”
Leo jumped up. “We have to undo the spell before total chaos breaks out!”
Magus ran to his book and began flipping pages frantically.
“It says here: Only a gift from the world of dreams can break the spell!”
Leo frowned. “The world of dreams… what do hens dream about?”
Then his eyes fell on the old vegetable cart.
“Magus — bring me that melon over there! Quickly!”
When Brunhilde saw the juicy, sliced melon, she froze.
Her gaze softened. “A melon? Just for me?”
“Your Majesty,” said Leo, bending one knee, “a gift from the realm of delights.”
Brunhilde fluttered down from the tree, marched regally toward the melon, pecked — and zing! — a gentle shimmer wrapped around her.
A blink, a sneeze — and she was an ordinary hen again, clucking and pecking at the melon as if nothing had ever happened.
Leo and Magus looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
“That was the most royal hen I’ve ever seen,” said Magus.
Leo laughed. “Well, at least she enjoyed her coronation day.”
Later, they stood before Mrs. Brombeer.
“You little rascals!” she scolded, though her eyes sparkled. “Come on, I’ll make melon compote — but don’t you dare enchant my kitchen!”
Then she looked at Magus and added, “And hats off when you sit at the table!”
Magus placed the hat on the bench beside him and muttered, “If she only knew what could happen.”
Leo grinned. “Well, sometimes a new queen is born.”
They both laughed until their bellies hurt.
And somewhere behind the stable, Brunhilde fluttered — quite inconspicuously — to her sleeping spot, carrying a straw like a royal scepter, and dreamed…
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