Example stories · Princesses · Ages 5 to 7

Princess Zinnia and the Sparrow's Crown

A read-aloud bedtime story, about 4 minutes.

Princess Zinnia of the Marigold Kingdom did not care much for fancy things. She cared about her garden, her chickens, and her very best friend, a round orange cat named Butterbean.

Every princess in the land had a golden crown, and so did Zinnia, though hers had a wonky little dent on one side from the time she used it to carry snails across the garden path.

Tonight was the Summer Feast, when every royal family in the kingdom gathered to eat berry pie and dance under paper lanterns. Zinnia loved the Summer Feast. She loved it even more than snail-carrying, and that was saying something.

"Zinnia, it is nearly time," called her mother, Queen Marabelle, from the hallway. "Do put on your crown."

Zinnia looked on her dresser. She looked under her bed. She looked inside her boot, just in case, because crowns did sometimes end up in odd places when you were a princess like Zinnia.

No crown.

"Oh no," said Zinnia. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

She marched out to the garden, arms crossed, grumbling the whole way. "A princess cannot go to a feast without her crown. Everyone will stare. They will whisper. They will say, there goes Princess Zinnia, the one who lost her own crown."

At the edge of the garden, up in the old plum tree, something glinted gold in the evening light.

Zinnia climbed up on the low branch and peered into a tangle of twigs. There, nestled cozy in the middle of a bird's nest, sat her golden crown, dent and all. Curled up right inside it, fast asleep, was a plump little sparrow.

Zinnia opened her mouth to shout. Then she stopped.

The sparrow looked so warm. So snug. So very comfortable in her crown, like it had been made just for tiny sparrow naps.

Zinnia thought about waking the bird up and yanking her crown away. She thought about how the bird might tumble right out of the tree, cold and startled and afraid.

"Well," said Zinnia to herself, "a princess is supposed to look after her kingdom. I suppose that includes the birds too."

She climbed back down, quiet as she could, and left the sparrow snoozing in her golden nest.

Now Zinnia had a real problem. No crown, and a feast starting any minute.

She looked around the garden. Marigolds nodded their orange heads in the breeze. Daisies stood in tidy little rows. A tangle of ivy curled along the fence.

Zinnia sat down right there in the grass and got to work.

She wove marigolds and daisies together, over and under, over and under, the way her mother had taught her to braid hair. She tucked in a few curls of ivy for good measure. When she was done, she set the little crown of flowers on her head and looked at her reflection in the fountain.

It was lopsided. It was a bit crumpled. Petals were already starting to droop. Zinnia thought it might just be the best crown she had ever worn.

At the feast, everyone gasped when Zinnia walked in wearing flowers instead of gold.

"Where is your crown, dear?" asked her mother.

"I lent it to a friend who needed it more," said Zinnia, and she told the whole table about the sparrow, and everyone laughed and said it was the kindest thing they had heard all week.

By the time the berry pie was gone and the paper lanterns glowed soft against the dark sky, Zinnia's flower crown had wilted almost flat. She didn't mind one bit.

Walking home with Butterbean padding beside her, Zinnia looked up at the plum tree. The little sparrow was still curled up safe in her golden crown, fast asleep under the stars.

"Good night, little bird," Zinnia whispered. "Sleep well in my crown."

Back in her own bed, under her own soft blanket, Zinnia closed her eyes. She dreamed of gardens, and marigolds, and a whole kingdom of small kindnesses, drifting off long before the flower petals on her windowsill had finished drying.