But one year, the youngest mistletoe plant, whose education had been neglected, decided that he wouldn't be cut. So he grew around the oak tree where he was planted, higher and higher, trying to hide. When the official royal mistletoe cutting staff went into the garden, just before Christmas, he almost escaped. But they needed a great deal of mistletoe, for the castle had so many doorways, and just before they returned to the castle, he felt the quick cut of the shears, and will he or nill he, he was off to the royal chambers to be hung. The king wasn't celebrating Christmas at all, for he was arguing with a visiting prince, from a neighboring kingdom.
Fighting's much more fun than kissing stuff.
The two leaders argued about treaties, and borders, and who had rights to the river and the deer in the forest and anything else they could think of, while the youngest mistletoe listened excitedly, wondering if they'd actually draw swords and fight a great duel. With lots of blood. And bits chopped off. Meanwhile, the queen was most put out, because this was a time of year when she had planned on kissing the king a great deal, as was her custom, and in spite of her hanging mistletoe everywhere, even right over his head in the throne room, he was far too busy arguing with that nice young prince from next door to pay her the least attention. And the entire troop descended into the king's throne room.