Walt Disney's Aladdin by A. L. Singer

Author:A. L. Singer [Singer, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novelisation
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Jafar rushed into the throne room, holding a large scroll. “Sire,” he called to the sultan,” I have found a solution to the problem with your daughter!”

“Awk!” squawked Iago. “Problem with your daughter!”

“It’s right here.” Jafar unfurled the scroll and began reading: “ ‘If a princess has not chosen a husband by her sixteenth birthday, then the sultan shall choose for her’!”

The sultan nodded. “But Jasmine hated all those suitors. How can I choose someone she might hate?” “Not to worry, there is more,” Jafar said, unrolling the scroll further. “ ‘In the event a suitable prince cannot be found, a princess may be wed to—’ Hmmm, interesting ...”

“What?” the sultan demanded. “Who?”

“ ‘The royal vizier.’ ” Jafar looked up. “Why, that’s me!”

“But I thought the law says only a prince can marry a princess,” the sultan said, reaching for the scroll.

Jafar quickly set it on a table and picked up his staff. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, my lord.”

The snake head began to glow with hypnotic light. “Yes,” the sultan said, his eyes glazing over. “Desperate times . . .”

“You will order the princess to marry me,” Jafar said confidently.

“I will order the princess to—”

Ra-ta-ta-taaaaaah! The sound of trumpets blared in through the window. The sultan blinked and turned towards the noise. “Wha—what? I heard something!”

Instantly the spell was broken. The sultan rushed to the window and looked out. Muttering, Jafar followed.

A huge band was marching down the main street. A giant peacock float moved slowly behind; lions and bears in colourful painted cages rolled by. People filled the streets to see the grand procession approaching.

“Make way for Prince Ali Ababwa!” the bandleader sang. Behind him strode a majestic elephant, its trunk held proudly in the air. On its back, a canopy bounced up and down.

From the canopy, Aladdin grinned and waved. The crowd roared with admiration. Dancers whirled

around him, swordsmen marched in perfect step, and dozens of attendants walked alongside. Abu lumbered on proudly, and the carpet made a perfect cushion for Aladdin on Abu’s bumpy back.

The genie floated among the crowd, changing himself every few minutes into a drum major, a harem girl, an old man, a child. In each disguise, he told everyone that a splendid prince was approaching.

By the time Aladdin got to the palace gates, he was the talk of Agrabah. His entire entourage—Abu, swordsmen, brass band, dancers, and all—marched right into the throne room.

As the sultan and Jafar stared, Aladdin slid off Abu’s back and onto the carpet. “Your Majesty,” Aladdin said, bowing in front of the sultan, “I have journeyed from afar to seek your daughter’s hand.”

“Prince Ali Ababwa!” the sultan said with a bright smile. “I’m delighted to meet you. This is my royal vizier, Jafar.”

Jafar did not look delighted at all. “I’m afraid, Prince Abooboo—”

“Ababwa,” Aladdin corrected him.

“Whatever,” Jafar said. “You cannot just parade in here uninvited and—”

“What a remarkable device!” the sultan exclaimed, looking at the carpet. “May I try?”

“Why, certainly, Your Majesty!” Aladdin said. He helped the sultan onto the carpet.

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