‘Just stand still, Max,’ said Jemima. ‘This isn’t easy and you hopping from one foot to another doesn’t help at all.’
‘But it tickles,’ he said, squirming about on the table he was standing on. Next to him lay a pile of white chicken feathers and Jemima was holding a paintbrush which she dipped into a small pot of melted wax, as Cassandra passed her another feather.
‘I’m going to look a complete prat by the time you two have finished with me,’ he grumbled.
‘Nonsense,’ said Cassandra. ‘You’ll look just perfect. Now stop dancing about.’
‘I still don’t see why I’ve got to have stupid feathers stuck to my ankles,’ he moaned. ‘What if they never come off?’
‘That’s the least of your worries,’ answered the Trojan princess. ‘Besides, I’ve already explained to you that Hermes has winged feet to speed him along when he’s delivering messages. These will be the wings on your ankles and I think you’re going to look very cute with them.’
Max wasn’t in the slightest bit amused and stood glowering on the table as Jemima and Cassandra added the finishing touches to his disguise.
Up on Mount Olympus Aphrodite was busy. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn’t notice her husband, Hephaestus, creep up behind her and peer over her shoulder.
‘What in heaven’s name are you up to now, Aphrodite?’ he snorted.
Startled, she jumped and attempted to hide all the paraphernalia in front of her from his prying eyes. ‘N-nothing, nothing,’ she stammered. ‘Just making something.’ She pushed the pot of hot wax and the pile of tiny white feathers to one side, before putting her hand over the small figure of the cat to hide him from view. Damn, he’d only got three winged feet. She’d have to finish him off later.
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