In a land very similar to ours, there was a fairy prince named Pod. Pod belonged to a community of fairies whose work was to harvest cherries off a local cherry tree and put them in a farmer’s barrels without him noticing. The fairies were quite proud of their work, and took to it with excitement and dedication. The fairy prince, however, much to the frustration of his parents, had never taken much of an interest in cherry harvesting. When the other fairies of Cherry Fairy Hill flew out in the mornings to carry their cherries over to Farmer Lincoln’s barn, Pod the fairy prince snuck in the other direction, deeper into the woods.
There, amidst the tall trees and cheerful creatures of the woods, Pod would spend the hours of the day eating mushrooms, chasing beetles, and riding snails over fallen logs or overturned stones. Pod enjoyed this very much. However, he did not enjoy what inevitably happened afterwards, when he would fly back in the light of the setting sun, to greet his fellow Cherry Fairies as they returned home to Cherry Fairy Hill.
All the other fairies would laugh at Pod, or scold Pod, or ignore Pod, or in some other way indicate their annoyance with him for refusing to help out. One especially brawny fairy, Fairy Posy, crossed his arms and scowled at Pod especially angrily.
“You are no true Cherry Fairy,” he boomed, as everyone else listened on, nodding their heads. Even Pod’s parents, King Mod and Queen Fod, only looked on in sad agreement. Fairy Posy’s muscular arms were covered in dark red cherry juice, which only made him look more imposing and in the right. “A true Cherry Fairy,” he growled, “a true prince, would get up early with the rest of us, and carry out his rightful responsibility.”
“Aye!” cried the other Cherry Fairies, and Pod’s bright acorn-brown face flushed with embarrassment and shame.
With that, the Cherry Fairies flew away, leaving Pod to his pouting as he floated down to sit forlornly on a mossy tree root. Pod sniffled, and muttered, and shook his fist. But soon he came to his senses, and flew up from his seat, hands on his hips.
“I’ll show them!” he cried, “I am a true Cherry Fairy. I am the Cherry Fairy Prince!”
The next morning, Pod flew out earlier than even the most dedicated Cherry Fairy. His parents wondered at his empty bed—dandelion fluff scattered messily on the floor, not at all placed neatly in his walnut shell bed—but only assumed he’d gone to play in the woods again.
They were correct that Pod was in the woods. However, he was not playing. He was, in fact, attempting to pick a cherry from the Cherry Fairies’ Cherry Tree. Pod adjusted his grip on one of the cherries’ green stems. He heaved. He pulled. He yanked. He held on tight, and let his wings stop so that his weight dropped down abruptly.
But the cherry refused to budge.
Pod kept pulling. He tried a new tactic—he held on as tight as he could, and flapped his wings as hard as he could, but still, the cherry didn’t move. A bead of sweat broke out on Pod’s forehead, and he stopped to catch his breath. “Oh dear,” he said, starting to worry that maybe he wasn’t a true Cherry Fairy after all.
Then inspiration struck! As the morning light filtered through the trees, one cherry released its hold on a nearby branch, and plummeted to the soft ground below. Pod saw it land gently in a pile of newly-fallen leaves.
“Perfect!” he cried, and flew down to the cherry. It was just as shiny as all the others on the tree; it even had one dewdrop balanced on its surface like a jewel. No one would ever know Pod had picked it up off the ground rather than straight from the tree.
Smiling, Pod took hold of the cherry’s stem. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go!” He shut his eyes and fluttered his wings the hardest he had all morning. He could feel the wind coming from his wings, feel it along his cheeks—he was doing it! He was flying!
Pod opened his eyes.
The cherry was still firmly on the ground.
Pod sank to the ground, feeling utterly defeated. A tear sprang to his eye. He must be the weakest of all the Cherry Fairies. He could not even lift one single measly cherry!
“Oh snails,” sighed Pod, slumping to the ground. “I’ll never be a true Cherry Fairy. I’m a horrible prince. I think I should resign.”
As he sat with his head in his hands, Pod heard a sassy voice clear its throat. “A-hem,” it said.
Pod craned his neck, searching for the speaker, but didn’t see any other fairies hanging out by the tree roots.
“Behind you, boo-boo!” sang the voice.
Pod was sitting against the cherry. He turned around and gasped. “You can talk?!”
“Of course I can!” said the cherry, laughing. She had bright red cheeks and kind eyes. “Now what was that rubbish you were saying about not being a good fairy?”
Pod wiped his eyes. “Well, it’s just . . . we’re Cherry Fairies, picking cherries is what we do, but I’m not even strong enough to pick up one lousy old—”
“Excuse me, I am only one month old!”
“S-sorry,” stuttered Pod. “But yeah. I’m a horrible Cherry Fairy. And I’m supposed to be their prince. W-why are you laughing?” Pod flew upwards, crossing his arms.
“Oh, oh do pardon me,” giggled the cherry, “it’s just that, oh—” she dissolved into further giggles.
“What’s so funny?” Pod was starting to feel embarrassed. Even a cherry was laughing at him?
“It’s just that—” if the cherry had had arms, she would have been wiping her eyes. “I saw you, yesterday.”
“Saw me? Saw me doing what?”
“Well, remember, yesterday, when one of those snails you were riding got stuck under a stone? You wedged a twig underneath him and lifted him out, even though the snail was definitely much heavier than I am. You used your smarts to solve a problem and help out your friend.”
Pod thought about it. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He just saw a twig, had an idea, and thought it might help free the snail. And it had! But . . .
“But I still can’t pick, or lift, or carry a cherry,” protested Pod, “what good is it that I could help a snail?”
“No silly,” laughed the cherry, “it’s not about the snail. You’re good at solving problems! I’m sure there’s a way you could use that brain of yours to help the Cherry Fairies—you can be a good Cherry Fairy just the way you are.”
Pod frowned. He thought about it. And slowly, a light began to rise in his face. “I’ve got it!” he cried. He darted about in the air, like he wasn’t sure where to fly. “I’ll need lots of bendy roots, and flat pieces of bark, and maybe even some mushroom tops! Oh—” he paused, and flew back to the fallen cherry. “Thank you! You’ve given me a great idea.”
“You’re welcome,” called the cherry, as Pod flew off into the trees, “and remember—you’re perfect just the way you are!”
The pretty buzzing sound of Pod’s wings faded into silence. The cherry looked around her surroundings. There was a leaf next to her on the ground. “Well, Leafy,” said the cherry, “I guess it’s just you and me.”
The leaf made no response.
***
A week later, when the fairies of Cherry Hill gathered on the thickest branch of Cherry Tree to begin that day’s harvest, they were surprised to find their prince waiting for them.
“Greetings my fellow fairies,” said Pod, bowing low to the confused crowd, “I have something to show you.” He caught the eye of Fairy Posy, who was looking especially brawny and bewildered, and smiled.
“Introducing . . . the Cherry-Carry Three-Thousand!” exclaimed Pod, pulling a leaf-blanket off a contraption of bark and twigs, spider web and woven grass. “CC3 for short.”
“What does three-thousand mean?” whispered Fairy Posy to one of his friends. The friend shrugged.
The Cherry-Carry3000 was essentially a woven crate with a solid bottom of bark and four hoops at each corner of the top of the open crate. The twigs that interlaced to make up its walls were tied together with long strings of spider web that glistened in the morning light.
“What are those hoops for?” asked a short fairy.
“I’m glad you asked, Fairy Juniper,” said Pod. He took a long strip of braided grass and threaded it through one of the hoops. “You tie it, like this, and then—” he tied the other end of the rope around his small waist. “By using these ropes, four fairies can fill the CC3 with as many cherries as they can—it holds up to ten cherries, I haven’t tried more yet—and together they can bring more cherries at a time than ever to Farmer Lincoln’s!”
The crowd gasped, oohed and awed. Four fairies quickly flew over, taking Pod’s place, to try out the new contraption. The rest of the crowd plucked cherries and piled them high. Pod stepped back, fluttering his wings in nerves and anticipation. The four fairies flapped their wings, straining against the weight of the CC3, and then thirteen cherries were airborne!
“Huzzah!” cried the crowd, “hooray! Hooray for Prince Pod!” Pod blushed with pride.
As the four fairies flew away, the rest of the crowd went to their work with renewed energy. Pod felt a strong hand clap his shoulder. It was Fairy Posy, grinning from ear to ear. “This is amazing,” he said, “an invention like this will revolutionize the cherry-picking game! Think of how much time we’ll save . . .” A dreamy look came into his eye. “Maybe I’ll finally have time to pursue my dream—baking! I’d bake cherry pies, cherry cupcakes, cherry strudel, cherry cookies . . .”
From far below, Pod thought he heard a familiarly sassy voice cry out, “You’d better not!”
Pod laughed nervously. “Um, that sounds great Fairy Posy, but maybe you can start with mushroom baked goods instead—after all, Farmer Lincoln does need our cherries.”
Fairy Posy nodded solemnly. “Prince, you are absolutely right. Mushrooms have more of a sweetness to them anyway.”
Pod bit back a laugh.
“Make sure to build lots more CC3s!” cried Fairy Posy, before flying away to help with the harvesting.
Pod stood on the branch, watching his people work, and finally felt like he had found his place. By the next spring, Pod had made more than enough CC3s for the fairies of Cherry Hill, and had the opportunity to branch out and help their neighbors—the fairies of Orange Hill. Pod found that oranges were much bigger and heavier than cherries, but he no longer feared a challenge, for he always remembered the fallen cherry’s words: “Behind you, boo-boo!”
Well, no, not those words. These ones. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”