Almost afraid to breathe, she slowly opened it. “Oh, Father.” She blinked at the sparkling necklace, then snapped the box closed again. “That is far too grand for me.”
“Nonsense.” He waved a hand at her. “The diamond necklace belonged to your grandmother. Your namesake. It is fitting you wear it tonight. And at other Christmas celebrations. You are a princess, Adelaide. I want you to look like one.” His eyes looked misty. “It pleases me.”
“I will wear it for you, Father.”
“Danke schoen.” He pointed to the mantel clock. “You must prepare yourself for the tree lighting. Anton will be waiting.”
She kissed his cheek, thanking him again, and told herself she would return his lavish gifts before leaving for home. But for now, she would do what she could to make him proud and happy.
A driver dropped Adelaide and Anton off next to the village square, where crowds were already gathered around musicians and food kiosks. A tall evergreen was situated in the center of the square. “What a beautiful setting,” Adelaide said. “The only thing missing is the snow.”
“I just heard the weather forecast has put snow a few more days out.”
“Well, it’s still lovely.” She smiled at a pair of cherub-like children waiting in line for a treat.
“And you are lovely too.” Anton held out his arm. “Like a real princess.”
More like a real Cinderella, she thought as she looped her arm through his. She’d already confessed to Anton how awkward she felt in furs and jewels. “I just hope I make the king proud,” she murmured as he led her toward a platform where Albert and several other dignified-looking citizens were seated.
“You’re to sit next to my uncle,” Anton explained.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be down here with the riffraff,” he joked, pointing to the end of the table.
“Willkommen, Princess Adelaide.” Albert stood to greet her. He shook her hand and pulled out a chair for her in the center of the long table. Then, taking his time, he politely introduced her to the others at the table, explaining who they were before he sat back down.
“Almost time.” As Albert checked his watch, Adelaide noticed Queen Johanna and Georg walking through the growing crowd. Both held their heads high as they smiled and nodded as various greetings were tossed their way. Clearly they were used to being treated like celebrities here and were comfortable in their element.
That is, until the queen noticed the platform. She actually stopped in her steps. A frown darkened her face as she stared at Adelaide. She said something to Georg and then led the way up the steps to the table. After a brief conversation with the man seated on the far end, the queen and her son took seats next to him. Queen Johanna was clearly unhappy with this seating arrangement.
Albert seemed oblivious to the queen’s demeanor as he stood and, after testing the sound system, welcomed everyone to the festivities. Next, he announced the youth choir, which instantly broke into a lively Christmas carol. After two more songs, which the crowd merrily joined into, Albert announced the next entertainment, a charming ballet troupe featuring little girls in fluffy, white tutus trimmed with red velvet. They were followed by a string quartet of white-haired musicians playing “Silent Night.”
A short silence followed the old hymn. Then a loud drum-roll sounded, and a strange creature—a cross between Bigfoot and a devil—ran through the crowd. Children screamed, some with delight and some in genuine fear. The adults looked mostly amused or feigned frightened expressions.
“What is that?” Adelaide whispered to Albert.
He laughed. “Krampus.”
“Krampus?”
The costumed creature continued running about dramatically, frightening the small children and making the grown-ups laugh before a kindly-looking bearded character dressed in a long white gown and a red satin tunic and headpiece showed up and majestically shook his scepter’s gold sphere. Adelaide realized this was Saint Nicholas. His actions seemed to drive Krampus from the square. Everyone cheered, and the children looked relieved.
Another jolly carol was sung and then Albert stood and apologized for the king’s absence before asking for the people’s prayers for his ill health. Right then and there, everyone quietly bowed their heads, Adelaide assumed, to pray for their king. She was so touched, her eyes got a little teary.
Now, speaking in English, Albert asked Adelaide to stand beside him. “We want to welcome King Max’s only daughter.” The crowd fell silent, watching with open curiosity and rapt interest as Albert continued. “Princess Adelaide Katelyn comes to us from America. Some of our older citizens may remember the engagement of King Max to the beautiful American woman, Susan Smith, many years ago. That woman has since passed, but her daughter, Princess Adelaide, has graced us with her presence. We are honored to have Princess Adelaide light our tree. But first we will invite Father Bamburg to ask the blessing for our upcoming Advent season.”
Suddenly all the strings of electric lights went out and, with the square draped in darkness, the crowd murmured with anticipation as the old priest stepped up and said an Advent blessing, while illuminated by a single candle.
After the prayer, Adelaide, also illuminated by a single candle, was led by Albert to the prop Anton had told her about. It represented the royal Christmas tree light switch. “Do I say anything before I pull it?” she whispered to Albert.
“The king usually says ‘Frohes Weihnachtsfest,’” he whispered back.
And so she shouted out the Christmas greeting, and the people returned it. Then she pulled the switch, and just like magic, the huge Christmas tree glimmered over the square with multicolored lights. The crowd cheered, and an oompah band began to play jovial Christmas songs as strings of lights and lanterns lit up again. Some people started to sing while others began dancing. Some left in pursuit of food. All in all, it was a very happy crowd, and Adelaide felt honored to participate in such a meaningful way.
“Would the princess care to dance?” Albert asked.
“I don’t really know how to do that kind of dance,” she confessed.
“I can help you with our little polka. Just a hop, skip, and sidestep to the music. If you’re having fun, no one will notice what your feet are doing.”
“Unless I step on yours,” she said as he led her out with the other dancers.
He took her hand. “Let the music carry you.”
To her surprise, after a few missteps, the music did lead her. And it was fun. She’d always loved dancing but had never done anything like this folk dance. After the lively number with Albert ended, Anton invited her to dance and, feeling a tiny bit more confident, she hopped and skipped and jumped with him as well.
They enjoyed a couple more folk songs, then Anton suggested they return to their table. “The mulled wine and gingerbread are being served there,” he said quietly. “We don’t want to offend anyone.”
While they had danced, some of the seating arrangements had changed. Queen Johanna and Prince Georg now occupied the center seats and did not look inclined to move.
“Make room for Princess Adelaide,” Albert said loudly.
“We are fine down here,” Adelaide called back. She smiled at Anton as he pulled out a chair for her. They both sat down.