Princess Petunia and the Royal Problem of Too Many Frogs

Once upon a time, in the pastel-pink kingdom of Rosalia, there lived a princess named Petunia.

She had golden hair that always seemed to sparkle (even when she woke up with bedhead), a wardrobe of gowns in every shade of “unicorn rainbow,” and a crown so shiny it sometimes blinded the court musicians.

Now, Petunia was kind and polite… but she had a problem.

A frog problem.

It all started when she rescued one little green frog from a mud puddle.

“Thank you, Princess,” croaked the frog. “For your kindness, I shall grant you one magical—”

But before he could finish, Petunia had already carried him into the palace gardens and made him a teeny-tiny crown out of daisies.

And that’s when the trouble began.

By the next morning, there were thirty-two frogs in her room.

Some were hopping on her bed, some were nibbling the royal pastries, and one was reading the royal bedtime storybook upside down.

“Why are you all here?” Petunia asked, trying not to trip over a particularly round one.

The round one bowed. “We heard Princess Petunia is the Protector of Frogs, the Best Hugger of Amphibians, and possibly The Chosen One Who Will End the Reign of the Snapping Turtles.”

Petunia blinked. “I’m… sorry, what?”

From then on, the frog population exploded. The palace hallways echoed with “ribbit” more than “good morning.” The royal chef complained about frogs in the soup tureens. The knights complained about frogs hiding in their helmets. And the queen… well, the queen began holding her teacup very, very high off the floor.

One day, a royal council meeting was called.

“Petunia,” the king said gravely, “we love you dearly, but the royal bathtub is now 90% frogs and 10% water.”

The princess nodded. “I understand. I’ll… talk to them.”

She gathered all the frogs in the grand ballroom. The chandeliers sparkled, the marble floor gleamed, and three frogs were already attempting to waltz.

“My dear froggy friends,” Petunia began, “I adore you. But you can’t all live here. The palace is for everyone, and ‘everyone’ doesn’t usually mean three hundred and sixteen frogs.”

There was a dramatic gasp from a frog in a feathered hat. “You counted us?”

“Of course,” Petunia said. “I even named you all.”

She pointed to the feathered-hat frog. “You’re Sir Bouncy. And you—” she gestured to the round one “—are Captain Pudding.”

The frogs looked touched. But still, they ribbited in protest.

That’s when Petunia had an idea.

“What if I gave you your own kingdom?”

The frogs fell silent.

And so, with the help of the royal gardeners, Petunia transformed the far side of the palace gardens into Frogopolis — complete with lily pad houses, bug cafés, and a miniature moat. She even appointed Captain Pudding as mayor.

From then on, the frogs had their own home, the palace regained its bathtubs, and Princess Petunia was hailed as a wise and diplomatic leader (although the knights still checked their helmets… just in case).

And if you ever visit Rosalia on a summer evening, you’ll hear the frogs singing in their little kingdom — and maybe, if you’re lucky, see Princess Petunia joining in with a crown of daisies on her head.

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