English II Pre-AP Fall Semester Exam Review
Directions: Read and annotate each of the three passages for understanding. You MUST
bring this packet with you on the day of the exam!
Passage I: “Curiosity”
Carefully read and annotate the poem “Curiosity” by Alastair Reid for understanding.
Line Number
Curiosity
may have killed the cat; more likely
the cat was just unlucky, or else curious
to see what death was like, having no cause
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to go on licking paws, or fathering
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.
Nevertheless, to be curious
is dangerous enough. To distrust
what is always said, what seems
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to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams,
leave home, smell rats, have hunches
do not endear cats to those doggy circles
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches
are the order of things, and where prevails
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much wagging of incurious heads and tails.
Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die-only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
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the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.
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Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.
Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible,
are changeable, marry too many wives,
desert their children, chill all dinner tables
with tales of their nine lives.
Well, they are lucky. Let them be
nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay
the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again,
each time with no less pain.
A cat minority of one
is all that can be counted on
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell
on each return from hell
is this: that dying is what the living do,
that dying is what the loving do,
and that dead dogs are those who do not know
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.
Notes about the text
Passage II: “Princess Miranda”
Carefully read and annotate the passage “Princess Miranda” by Lead Howard for
understanding.
Paragraph Number
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Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess who had lost her ability to
speak. Forced to communicate by gestures and expressions, Princess Miranda grew weary
and disheartened.
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Fearful of losing their only child, the king and queen ordered all of the servants to
appear before them.
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“We're worried about the princess's health,” began the queen.
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“Princess Miranda cannot ask for what she wants,” added the king, “so you will
anticipate her every need and desire.”
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The servants exchanged looks of horror, but only one was willing to risk the
wrath of the king and queen. “S-s-ssire, I hate to offend, but that's an impossible task,”
pleaded the head chef.
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“To the dungeons with him!” the vexed king commanded. Two menacing guards
dragged the bewildered chef away immediately. The king pointed at one of the underlings.
“You are now the head chef. Fail and you too will await your execution in the depths of the
dank dungeons.” With much authority, he thundered to the other servants, “My daughter
will not fall sick with longing!”
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The sniveling servants scattered like antelope from a stalking lion. Eager to
please the maiden and fearful of breaking the king's command, the new head chef ordered
several delicious dishes prepared for every meal. Poached eggs in a golden sauce, roasted
chicken with wild rice, goose pies, apple dumplings, gingerbread, seedcake, elderflower
cheesecake, apple-raisin pudding, fruit tarts, and pears drizzled in honey—just in case the
princess should want any of them. The princess's nanny studied old menus and marked all
of her charge's favorites. The dressmakers brought silk, wool, brocade, satin, and linen in
all the colors of the rainbow to make sure they had just the fabric and color the princess
would want.
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After an exhausting day of excessive nodding and waving, Miranda sank
gratefully into her feather-stuffed bed. The endless decisions had given her the most
horrible headache. Even though she was fatigued beyond belief, she couldn't fall asleep.
Her emotions were an oppressive storm about to break. Slipping from beneath the silken
coverlet, she stood beside her bed in indecision, tapping one slender foot impatiently.
Sleep would be impossible unless she eased the disquiet of her mind
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She pulled her wrap closer as she swiftly ran to the kitchens, for the corridors
were drafty. Fortunately, she met no one because she was in no mood for the difficult task
of wordless explanations. Carrying a carefully wrapped package and a lit candle, Miranda
crept to her father's study. She pushed aside an elaborate tapestry and opened a small door.
After only a few moments, Miranda arrived at the former head chef's cell. Silently, she
slipped him a generous slice of roasted chicken and an apple tart wrapped in a linen napkin
embossed with her initials. Feeling better, the princess returned to her quarters.
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The next day, the king and queen, who were eager to restore the health of their
daughter, sought the aid of the most skilled healers in the kingdom. The first healer proudly
approached the king.
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“Before I can heal your daughter, I need a particular plant. Send a servant in
search of a small, rounded shrub with flowers of violet, pink, or white. The leaves are
wooly white and oval shaped,” directed the wise man.
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Hours later the servant returned with the required plant. The healer combined six
sage leaves, a small glass of port wine, a tablespoon of vinegar, and two tablespoons of
honey. He simmered the ingredients together, and, in a short time, the tonic was ready.
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Give the princess this potion and have her gargle with it three times each day,”
said the healer as he carefully handed the crystal vial to the king.
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After removing the ruby stopper, Miranda delicately sniffed the mixture. The
aroma was surprisingly fragrant. Dipping her smallest finger into the vial, Miranda
hesitantly tasted its contents; she frowned at its bitter flavor. Despite her displeasure,
Notes about the text
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Miranda faithfully gargled with the sage potion three times a day for seven days. There
was no change in her condition. The enraged king ordered the healer to be imprisoned in
the dungeons below the castle to await execution.
The next day another healer was brought before the king, but this healer was not
quite as eager as the first. Realizing the danger of his position, the healer thought carefully;
he researched the various recipes that might prove successful in healing the princess.
Finally, he made his request to the king. “Send a servant in search of a plant with a stalk of
about two feet. The long leaves growing from its base are greenish-blue on the top and
have a purplish tint underneath. Next, the servant must journey deep into the woods until
he finds a white flower with eight petals and a bright yellow center.”
Two days later the servant returned, weary from his travels. The healer combined
the bistort root and bloodroot with water from a sacred pool. He simmered the mixture and
poured it into a crystal vial. With a few words, the healer blessed the potion and replaced
the emerald stopper.
“Give the princess this potion and have her gargle with it when the sun rises and
when the sun sets each day. She must do so for seven consecutive days,” the healer
instructed.
As directed, Miranda rose each morning and waited for the sunrise before she
gargled with the potion. In the evening, she gargled as she watched the sun return to its
rest. Despite the best efforts of the healer and the faithful gargling of the princess, there
was no change in her health.
The second healer joined the first in the dungeons below the castle. Hearing the
fate of the two finest healers in the kingdom, all of the other healers in the land
disappeared. The frustrated king sent soldiers and spies in search of any other healers.
Meanwhile, Miranda once again used the secret passageway to visit the prisoners. Without
a word, the princess tearfully handed food and drink to the two healers and the former head
chef.
The king and queen began to accept the loss of their daughter’s voice and
consoled Miranda with the best jewels, clothes, trinkets, and entertainers to be found in the
kingdom. The princess appeared to enjoy the attention and presents, but guilt lurked in her
heart. She knew that those who were only trying to heal her had been unfairly imprisoned.
Then a stranger, who had heard of the king’s need of a healer, entered the
kingdom and headed for the castle to offer his help. Still some distance from the castle, he
encountered an elderly woman chopping wood. Smiling, the young man took her ax and
began to chop the rest of the wood. Because of his youth and strength, he finished the job
quickly. Surprised, the woman offered him a meal and a chance to rest in her cabin.
“I’m sorry, but I must hurry to the castle, for the princess is in need of healing,”
he replied.
“The two best healers have already failed to heal the princess and have been
imprisoned,” the elderly woman cautioned.
“The princess needs my help,” the young man insisted, and he continued along
the path to the castle. Hours later he was standing before the king.
“I believe I can heal your daughter,” he confidently announced.
“Wonderful! What materials do you require?” asked the King.
“The princess,” he said simply. “And, when I have healed her, I request her hand
in marriage.”
With desperation and worry clouding his better judgment, the king paused only
briefly before nodding his agreement. The puzzled princess, obeying her father’s orders,
soon stood outside the castle walls with only a small valise containing enough clothes for a
few days. Unfortunately, she couldn’t ask what was going on. The young man took her by
the hand, and they walked together along the road. When the sun began to set, the annoyed
princess tugged on the young man’s coat, but she was unable to ask the questions that
crowded her mind: Had her parents sent her away? Was this man a healer? Where were
they going?
At dusk they reached a small dwelling. Smiling, the young man knocked. The
elderly woman whom he had helped earlier opened the door and eagerly welcomed them
inside. They sat down and shared the woman’s poor dinner of vegetables from her garden.
Miranda grew more and more frustrated, but she was too tired to pantomime her needs.
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Wearily, she lay down by the fire; within moments, she was asleep.
Early the following morning, the old woman thrust a broom into the princess’s
hands. Never having used such a tool, the groggy princess gestured her confusion, but the
old woman ignored her. Miranda began clumsily sweeping, but the dirt and dust only flew
into her face causing her to cough so violently that tears filled her eyes. Unmoved by the
princess's distress, the old woman handed Miranda a bowl filled to the brim with potatoes.
Demonstrating, the woman quickly peeled a potato. Miranda tried to follow the example
but nicked her finger in the process. Once again, tears streamed down her dusty face.
The young man entered the hut and saw the distraught princess. Seeing
Miranda's injured hand, he quickly reached into his medicine bag and withdrew a handful
of elderberry leaves; he cleansed the small wound and gently covered it with a poultice of
the leaves. After he prepared a soothing tea of chamomile to ease Miranda's tired spirits,
they relaxed comfortably by the fire.
“Tomorrow morning, I will be gone before you wake,” he said gently. “I must
restock my herbs, some of which may only be found deep in the forest or high on a
mountain.”
Miranda only nodded. The next morning, the princess discovered both the young
man and the old woman gone. For the first time, she had to prepare her own meal.
Fortunately, there was a loaf of bread on the table and a hunk of cheese. As she was eating
her breakfast, she heard a cry outside. Miranda opened the door and cautiously peered
outside.
Curious, the princess followed the sound of the cries until she found their source:
in a clearing in the forest, a small dirty child with torn clothes whimpered pitifully.
Miranda quickly ran to the child, but when she didn't speak, the child sobbed even louder.
In desperation, she pulled the unhappy child into her arms and tried to console him. As she
gently rocked him, a tune naturally came to her lips, a lullaby her mother had sung to her as
a child.
Suddenly, the child vanished, and in his place stood the young man. With a
tender smile, he embraced her.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“Congratulating you,” he replied.
“For what?”
“You have found your voice,” he explained.
“Why, I have!” she said in surprise.
“For once, you thought of someone other than yourself.”
“But I helped the head chef and the healers my father imprisoned,” the princess
retorted.
“True. But you were trying to ease your own guilt about their imprisonment,”
answered the young man.
Pondering for a moment, Princess Miranda realized the truth of his words. Full of
gratitude, she impulsively kissed his cheek.
“Your father has promised your hand in marriage to me,” announced the young
man.
“But I don't even know your name,” she protested.
Shaking his head, he asked, “Is that your only concern?”
“Yes!” she replied with a grin.
“My name is Galen,” he answered.
Linking arms, they began the return journey to the castle. Along the path, they
came upon the old woman as she was returning from her morning errands. Princess
Miranda joyously shared, in her very own voice, that she planned to marry Galen. The old
woman rejoiced with them and promised to attend the festivities.
After an extravagant weeklong festival, the two were married and lived (mostly)
happily ever after. To Galen's dismay, since Miranda had regained the use of her tongue,
she tended to chatter on and on. And, to Miranda's dismay, Galen tended to be a little
bossy at times. Even so, they loved each other dearly into their old age.
Passage III: “The Saleswoman”
Carefully read and annotate the passage “The Saleswoman” by Colette for understanding.
Paragraph Number
1
At the hat shop. With the arrival of a client, the saleswoman rushes up: twentyfive years old, with the eyes of a young tyrant, a tower of blond hair on the top of her head.
Her hands, her figure, her mouth, her feet, all are thin to excess, witty, and aggressive.
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“...?”
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“Yes, that thing with the blue wing on the side and the velour all around it?”
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“...?”
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“What you made it yourself? All by yourself. Why, that’s incredible, it’s
miraculous! If I may indulge in a little joke, you have a future in fashion. Would you do
our maison the honor of doing it as a trimmer?”
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“...?”
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“The trimmer? She’s...well, heavens, she’s the one who puts the linings inside
the hats, who...well...who does a lot of little things. Give me your lovely little ‘creation’;
oh, I’ll give it back to you! Here, I’ll give it back...let’s see...tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.
Exactly, the car is making a delivery tomorrow in your suburb.”
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“...?”
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“Yes, well, in your neighborhood, I meant. It’s so far! I’m just a poor little
Parisian girl who never has time to leave her post, you understand. The boulevard shop in
winter Deauville in the summer, the Biarritz shop in September, Monte Carlo in
January...Oh not everybody can live in Auteuil. Quick, come with me, I have a nice corner
in the little fitting room facing the street. It’s poorly lit? You don’t like being with your
back to the light? But it’s the best place for trying on hats! Your silhouette, this season;
one disregards the details. And, you see, you’re between Mademoiselle X, the ‘little diva,’
who’s trying on hats for her tour right now, and Princess A, who’s just back from the
south.”
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“...?”
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“Yes, that one, the fat old lady. In the shop, we call her the ‘Pink Pompon’.”
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“...?”
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“Because whenever she doesn’t like a hat, she always says, ‘I think it’s missing
something, here, in the hollow...a little nothing, a little flower...a bouquet of pompon
roses!’ Mademoiselle X, that one there, to your left, she’s not what you’d normally call
pretty, but she has such a good heart!”
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“...?”
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“Oh, a heart of gold. Look, the lady who’s with her, yes, that sort of little shark
in black is a poor friend she’s taken in. She takes her with her everywhere, to her
couturier’s, to her jeweler’s; she stayed here for hours trying on twenty-five different hats
under her poor friend’s nose--to distract her.
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“Let’s see now, how about if we talk a little more seriously now? I’ve gotten it
into my head that I could really do a good job on you today. It’s days like this when my
mind is set on business. Okay, for starters, pull this little cloche down over your beautiful
hair for me!...You haven’t changed color?”
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“...”
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“Excuse me, it’s a reflection from the outside light. I was saying to myself: it has
more gold in it than usual. You might have gotten the urge to change, just for a change.
And then there are some people who go gray very early. On the side, on the side,
completely covering one ear! There!...What do you think of it?”
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“...!”
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“I can see it’s not a hit. Besides, you’re right, it’s not your style. On you, it
looks a little...a little too ladylike. It’s funny, I just sold the same hat to Mrs. W. She is
ravishing in it, Mrs. W, with her long neck, and especially here, you see, her chin, her
cheeks, so fresh and the ear...Let’s say good-bye to this style here for a minute; one lost, ten
found. Look at that, what was I telling you! This is what we’re after. Way down, all
right?”
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“...”
Notes about the text
“More than that, more than that! I can still see the hair on your temple, and on the
back of your neck! I believe you’re familiar with the ‘great hat principle of the season,’ as
the owner herself says?”
“...?”
“The great hat principle is that when you meet a woman on the street and her hat
allows you to see whether she’s a brunette, a blond, or a redhead, the woman in question is
not wearing a chic hat. There!...Notice I’m not saying anything, I’ll let you make up your
own mind. Well?”
“...”
“You prefer the navy-blue one? That one there, on the mushroom? Yes?
...Well, really!”
“...”
“No, no, it’s not sold.”
“...?”
“Why no, Madame, I don’t want to keep you from buying it! I wasn’t suggesting
it to you because I didn’t think I was talented enough to sell hats like that one. But it’s true,
it does seem to go with your face. Ah, you really know what it is you want! Like I always
say: there are only two categories of clients whose minds can’t be changed: artists and
lower-middle-class women.”
“...”
“You’re not an artist, but you still have a very independent sense of judgement.
Try on this one here, just for me. It’s not at all excessive, but I think it’s both rich and
discreet, because of this polished cotton fantasia which gives it all its cachet...No? Ah, I’m
not having any luck at all, you’re just trying to mortify me. If your two sons have your
personality, they’ll be terrible men! Are those two big boys doing all right?”
“...”
“Already? How time flies, my Lord! And still good-looking, I’m sure. Well,
there’s nothing surprising about that.”
“...!”
“No, Madame, there’s no flattery intended at all; anyway, everybody in the shop
agrees with me, it’s just what everybody says about the presence, the charm, the
intelligence of your husband...and everyone knows that your two gorgeous children also
inherited your beautiful health! What a shame they’re not daughters! I’d already be fitting
them for hats, and spoiling them as much as you. So, nothing more today, except the little
blue hat? Shall I have it sent down to you in your car?”
“...”
“Yes, yes, don’t worry, I’ll give the description of the car to the messenger boy
myself. You think I don’t know the brown sedan you’ve had for six years? Good-bye,
Madame, and thank you for your lovely visit, don’t go so long without coming to see your
faithful saleswoman; I enjoy seeing you so much...it gives me a rest from our American
clientele: all I feel like telling those women are disagreeable things.”
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Key Terms to Know for the Exam:
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Tone
Purpose
Symbols
Theme
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Conflict
Mood
Metaphor
Simile
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Climax
Summary
Setting
Diction