Queen of the Fluffy Pens, Queenie, is keen to move her beloved brood across their owner’s kitchen to be nearer the window. Life will be wonderful there as they’ll have lots of space and sunshine to enjoy. First, however, Queenie has to learn how to fly. Once she’s mastered that skill, she and her two friends, Betsy and Tanya, set out on their epic journey. On the way, they encounter a very strange fly indeed, a friendly bee and a frightening hornet. They also learn something very important about the value of friendship. Can they survive their great adventure, and will their new home be all they’ve hoped for?
Recommended for ages 6-9.
Here’s an extract for you:
She stood nine inches high with her tiara and she was without a doubt the best of her breed. The label hanging from her glittery pink neck and resting on her pink fluffy body told anyone who cared to read it that she was the “Queen of Fluffy Pens.”
It was a title she was very proud of. She took great pleasure in reminding her fluffy pen friends of its importance if she felt they might have forgotten it. This was for their own good, of course. Queenie (as she was known to the same friends) always took her responsibilities seriously.
“You see,” she was saying now, as they gathered around her, fluffy feathers fluttering out and bright glitter glistening. “You see, we need to take matters under our own wing and we need to have an adventure.”
Five pairs of eyes looked back at her and then, as if they were of one mind, they all blinked and looked at each other. And then at her again.
Queenie waited. She was good at doing this. Leading a group of fluffy pens of very different natures had taught her the art of being still. Sometimes her charges needed time to think. While she waited, she gazed round at her closest friends. First of all, there was George, with his red, white and blue feathers, and the Union Jack he always carried in his beak. She loved his patriotism, especially in the Jubilee Year, but the flag did make it difficult for him to talk.
Next to him stood Dizzy Duck. She was the only duck in a group made entirely of chickens, but they loved her anyway. Queenie was a great believer in the truth that just because someone was different didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Dizzy was very funny, but a bit scatty every now and then. Her feathers were purple and spiky and glittery all at the same time, and she could always be spotted in a crowd. This could be very useful.
Then Queenie smiled at Marmaduke. He was the brainy one in her flock, though more often than not he tended to be serious. His feathers were curly and bright orange, so he wasn’t very good at hiding. Never mind being spotted in a crowd, Marmaduke could be spotted on a dark night when there was no moon. Occasionally this could be useful too.
There were two more in her close set but, as everyone knows, birds can only count up to three, so Queenie couldn’t look at anyone else yet. Besides, George was squeaking, and Marmaduke was trying to make out what he was saying.
“Will there be tea and sandwiches?” he asked her around his flag, his accent so posh that only those born and brought up in the southern counties of England could understand him. It was just the way he was made. There was nothing to be done about it …
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