The Countess's teacups

The Countess of Fingraz was a particular woman who was obsessed with the number ten. And because she loved the number ten, she had ten of everything.
She had ten castles in ten counties with ten maids and ten bedrooms in each; she went to bed at ten, on a bed of ten mattresses; she awoke at ten and wore ten pairs of knickers, ten pairs of socks and ten dresses; she ate ten strawberries for breakfast with ten small pancakes; she had a bunch of ten flowers in ten vases and ten candles in every room, all her clocks chimed ten times no matter what the hour and she had ten place settings of her finest pink with gold trim bone china tea set.
But one day a new maid called Tabitha accidentally knocked two of the delicate teacups from the Countess's tea table and they smashed on the ground. The Countess was furious. Her cheeks flooded a deep shade of purple and she scolded Tabitha ten times.
"Replace those cups, immediately," she roared. "I want ten cups. No more no less."
The maid scuttled off and explained to the other nine maids what happened and what the Countess wanted.
"Then we must find two more cups," said Tina, one of the maids.
Everyone searched the castle from top to bottom but all that could be found were mismatched cups.
Tabitha returned to the Countess's tea room and showed her the cups. The Countess swept them clean out of Tabitha's hand, and they smashed on the wooden floor.
"That simply won't do. They don't match," was all the Countess said.
Tabitha reported back to the kitchen and another plan was hatched.
"We could ask the castle's portrait painter to paint two plain china teacups to match them," said Teresa, another maid.
The portrait painter took the two plain and two broken cups and returned later that morning with two pristine, newly painted cups.
"I'll take them up," said Tabitha.
Apprehensively, Tabitha approached the Countess and showed her the new cups.
The Countess peered through the spectacles perched on the end of her nose and examined the cups.
"These are no good. They're the wrong shade of pink. They don't match," was all the Countess said.
So Tabitha returned, dejected and told the others the new cups were no good. Again the ten maids scratched their bonneted heads and paced about the kitchen, anguishing over their problem.
"How about we find the potter who fired the cups and ask him to make two more," said a maid called Tara.
"A great idea!" said Tabitha.
Tara called for one of the ten coachmen to ride into town and ask the town potter to make two more cups. But the coachman returned at noon to say that the potter had died only last week and there was no-one to throw a pot.
"Alas," said Tara shaking her head. "I've no idea what we can do."
"Why does the Countess insist on having ten?" Tabitha asked.
"Because she thinks it's a 'well-rounded number'," explained Teresa. "She has ten fingers and so loves the number ten."
Tabitha pondered the reason whilst the other nine maids tried to come up with another way of appeasing and pleasing the Countess. Then, like a bolt of lightening, Tabitha came up with an idea of her own.
"Does the Countess know that in fact she only has eight fingers?"
The other nine maids looked at Tabitha with disbelief.
"Only eight," said Teresa holding up both hands and counting her digits. "I think you must be mistaken, for as you can clearly see I have ten fingers."
"Ah!" said Tabitha as she made to leave the kitchen. "That's depends on what you understand a finger to be."
Tabitha returned to the Countess empty handed, closely followed by the other nine maids who were eager to hear what Tabitha had to say to the Countess. They loitered by the door to the tea room whilst Tabitha entered.
"Why have you the gall to return with nothing to offer after you carelessly broke my precious china," blustered the Countess as Tabitha approached her.
"I do sincerely apologise for my lack of diligence in going about my duties, Countess, but I came to ask why you love the number ten?" asked Tabitha.
"That is an impertinent question from someone as lowly as you."
"Lowly I am but I learn through curiosity. If I knew your reason I would be better placed to find a solution to the problem."
The Countess considered Tabitha for a moment, eyeing her up and down.
"You have intelligence, girl," she said, sounding surprise by the notion. "So I'll answer you."
The Countess explained her reason exactly as Teresa had told it.
"Forgive my impertinence, Countess, but you only have eight 'fingers'. This here is an index finger," she began holding up her forefinger, "the second is your middle finger, the third is your ring finger and the last is your little finger."
"But what of the one next to your index finger?" asked the Countess a little bemused.
"That's a thumb."
"A thumb?" said the Countess. "So it's not a finger."
Tabitha shook her head. She knew well that medically a thumb was indeed a finger too but decided that was information the Countess didn't need to know.
"So all this time I've loved the wrong number," said the Countess, downheartedly.
Tabitha shook her head.
"Then it'll have to be changed. Eight will now be my new favourite number," the Countess announced. "Make sure that there is eight of everything in the house. At once."
Tabitha nodded her head before adding, "I've made a start already, Countess, for your tea set already has eight tea cups."