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"I'm guessing you wear a wig for the hair?" Julia asked. I nodded againand turned towards the table where we had been keeping the wigs. Theyweren't there!"Mom?" I questioned, looking at her for an explanation.She smiled while rising from the couch. "The wigs are your most vitalpiece of the disguise, Megan. Your dad and I felt it would be a goodidea to keep them hidden to prevent people from seeing them."I guess that made sense. She walked over to an armoire that was standingagainst one of the walls. I followed her. There was a keypad on thedoor."The code is 4357," she said, entering the numbers. I heard a click andone of the doors opened slightly. She pulled it open and inside was thecollection of wigs we had purchased, safe from the prying eyes of anyvisitors to the room."Wow," Julia commented when she saw the collection. "You guys are reallyserious about this Hannah Montana thing." Mom and I could only nod."Which one should I wear?" I asked Julia.She thought over the options on. Kazooie thought.Banjoleft the hot air balloon, carrying Kazooie with him. As the twomade their way through the forest, they continued to bicker to each other about the necessities. Did you remember to bring the canteen? Hadyou left a note before we've left? Did you remember to bring the toilet paper? With all of those questioned said and answered, theywent on arguingwhich way they should go. Kazooie, whose impatience was built up since morning, did most of the talking. She could clearly tell that Banjo had deaf ears, a stronghabit of his every time a raised voice was heard.No matter, even though they"lost" the map, Kazooie can tell they were going the right way. The pictures she managed todownload fromthe internet told her that they were indeed in the right forest. In the pictures, the leaves and grass had a thickgreen to them, along with a lot of colorful flowers, butterflies, and birds. There was a problemthough, the pictures were taken during late spring, it was now late autumn..
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Perhaps it was the son of a baron?Mr. Melvin came into the room then, dressed as smartly as always, and rang a small bell. “Supper is ready.”The family and their visitor gathered around the table and took their seats while Mr. Melvin and one of the kitchen maids brought in the soup course. Father and Isa were at the head and foot of the table as usual, while the visitor had the place of honor to Father’s right.After the soup had been served, the man stood up. “If you don’t mind, cousin?”“By all means,” Father said.The man clasped his hands together and bowed over the table. “I would like to dedicate this meal to the glory of Pallisur.” He sat back down as everyone else bowed their heads forward briefly, completing the prayer.That was even more unusual. Father followed the war god, of course—everyone in the valley did—but they rarely bothered with prayers unless the village priest joined them for a meal. Was the visitor a priest? And he’d called Father cousin, though that word had.

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