RANSVESTIA

a girl. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return Wendy's things and get my own clothes on again.”

—

"Say where is Wendell?" Things were moving past me in a blur. I didn't know what was happening and I felt like lying down and passing out for a while.

"Oh he'll be along in a little bit. He's just arranging the rest of the details."

"What details? What's happening now?" My voice rose in pitch. What was happening?

“Just about now he should be telling your step-mother all about us.” "What?!?!?!?" What about us? I didn't agree to anything, did I?”

“Yes, you did. And what's more you know you did. She left the

room.

I'll never know the reason why. Never. Nobody could ever convince me that I was in my right mind, then, or forty-eight hours later when I boarded a plane bound for Washington, DC, beside the Prince. Our en- gagement was to be announced at the Embassy there and from there, on to Saxe-Gotheburg and a state wedding. I never even had a chance to pro-

test, even once.

I can't even remember everything that happened in that intervening period of time. I do remember that Wendell had returned from my step- mother's with another fantastic scheme. I was to dress up again in the clothes I had worn to the Ball, while the Prince appeared in full Prince- ly drag and we would enact the final scene where the Prince tries the miss- ing slipper on the foot of Oh, lordy, Wendell, nobody is that stupid!

"Your step-mother comes closer than anyone I know," he insisted. "You're right, of course, but there's another reason. We want to show her what a beautiful daughter she's acquired.

Well, even my step-mother couldn't chew a lump that hard to swallow. And as the poignant scene was enacted in Wendell's living room, she sud- denly said, "But what am I going to tell everybody?”

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