The princess who tucked in the castle

Princess Hazel lived in a small castle called Thistledown, which had three towers, one drawbridge, a kitchen that smelled of bread, and a great many things that needed tucking in at night.

That was Hazel’s job. Other princesses might have other jobs. Hazel’s job was bedtime, and she was very good at it.

She did not wear a crown for it. A crown slips off when you bend over to tuck things in. She wore her soft green dress and her wool socks, and she carried a lantern with a little flame inside, and she started at the bottom and worked her way up.

First, the stable.

The two horses, Oat and Barley, stood in their straw with their big heads low. Hazel put down the lantern and brushed Barley’s nose with the flat of her hand. She straightened the blanket on Oat’s back, which had slipped a little to one side.

“Tucked in,” said Hazel. “Sleep well, Oat. Sleep well, Barley.”

Barley blew a long warm breath out of his nose, whuff, and Oat’s ears went floppy, and that was the stable done.

Next, the chickens.

The chickens were already on their perch in a row, seven round brown shapes with their heads tucked under their wings. Hazel counted them, one to seven, and then she closed the little door so the night air would not get in.

“Tucked in,” she said. “Sleep well, chickens.”

Seven small cluck sounds came out from under seven wings, and that was the chickens done.

Next, the kitchen.

The cook, whose name was Mr. Pennywort, had fallen asleep in his chair by the oven, the way he did most nights. His apron was still on. A wooden spoon was still in his hand.

Hazel took the spoon gently and set it on the table. She took the blanket from the hook by the door and laid it over him, up to his chin, and tucked the end under his elbow so it would not slide.

“Tucked in,” she whispered. “Sleep well, Mr. Pennywort.”

Mr. Pennywort said, “Mmf,” which meant thank you, and that was the kitchen done.

Next, the great hall, and the clock.

The clock in the great hall was tall and brown and older than anyone could remember. All day it said TICK, TOCK, loud enough to hear from the towers. But at night, Hazel liked it quieter.

She stood on her toes and opened the little glass door on its front, and spoke to the clock’s face.

“Tucked in,” she said. “You can tick softly now. Everyone is going to sleep.”

And the clock, which was a polite clock, went tick, tock, tick, tock, and then tick… tock… tick… tock… until it was hardly more than a whisper.

Hazel nodded. That was the hall done.

She climbed the stairs with her lantern, past the long window where the moon was looking in. She stopped on the landing, and she looked back down at all of it. The still hall. The soft clock. The kitchen glow. She let out a long, slow breath of her own.

Next, the towers.

In the first tower lived Hazel’s little brother, Rowan, who was already asleep sideways across his bed with one foot sticking out. Hazel turned him the right way around, which was not easy, and tucked the foot back in. “Tucked in,” she said. “Sleep well, Rowan.”

In the second tower, the flag on its pole was flapping in the wind, flap, flap, flap. Hazel pulled it down and rolled it up and set it in its corner. “Tucked in. Sleep well, flag.”

In the third tower was Hazel’s own room, with her own bed, and her own pillow, and her own nightgown folded on the chair. But she was not done yet.

Because the last thing to tuck in was the castle itself.

Hazel went to her window and leaned out, just a little, and put her hand flat on the cool gray stone of the wall.

“Tucked in, Thistledown,” she said. “The horses are asleep. The chickens are asleep. Mr. Pennywort is asleep. The clock is ticking softly. Rowan is the right way up. Everyone is safe inside you. You can sleep now too.”

And the castle did.

A long, low sound came up through the stones. It came from the chimneys and the cellars and the deep old places where the castle kept its warmth. It was the sound a very big, very old, very comfortable thing makes when it finally lets go of the day.

Hooooom, went the castle.

Hooooom.

Hazel smiled. She blew out her lantern. She took off her wool socks and climbed into her bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tucked the end under her own elbow, the way she had done for Mr. Pennywort.

“Tucked in,” she said to herself. “Sleep well, Hazel.”

The horses breathed, whuff.

The clock went tick… tock.

The castle went hooooom.

Hazel’s eyes closed.

Tucked in.

Tucked in.

Everyone tucked in.

Hooooom.

Hooooom.

Sleep well.

How to read this one aloud

• “Tucked in” is the line to say the same way every time, a little slower and quieter each round. Children start to expect it, and the expecting is part of what settles them.
• Give the clock its own voice. Loud TICK, TOCK the first time, then stretch the gaps until the words are barely there.
• The pause point is Hazel on the landing, looking back down at the hall. If your child is asleep, stop there and let the castle wait until tomorrow.
• The castle’s snore, “hooooom,” should come from your chest, low and long, like a hum. Hold it for one slow breath each time. It is the sound the story ends on.
• A child who is still awake might like to be asked, “Who would you tuck in at our house?” If your child is unsettled by the dark, Hazel’s walk through the castle with her lantern is a good lead-in to helping a child who is afraid of the dark. For another slow, gentle story in the same shape, try the bunny whose ears would not stop listening.