Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"Afraid not," he replied. "I've been enchanted to possess the power of human speech and made to be six feet tall."

"What are you like when you're not enchanted?"

"I'm six inches tall and I croak."

"What do you want? "

"I have an invitation for you."

He held out a square of cardboard upon which letters had been embossed:

YOU ARE INVITED TO A CELEBRATION

MASKED BALL IN HONOR OF

CINDERELLA AND HER PRINCE

MUSIC BY ORLANDO AND THE FURIOSOS

GIORDANO BRUNO AND THE HERMETIC TRADITION

SPARTACUS AND THE REVOLTING SLAVES

CHARADES, DOOR PRIZES

TASTEFUL REVELRY

"Oh, thank you!" Scarlet said. "But why did Princess "Cinderella ask me? I don't even know her."

"She heard that you are alone here and is sympathetic to your plight. She's had her own problems, you know."

"I'd love to go! But I have no ballroom gown."

"Surely you can get one."

"And transport... How would I get there?"

"Merely contact Enchanted Ball Caterers, and at the proper time they will dispatch me with a coach fashioned out of a pumpkin."

"Oh. But won't I get pumpkin juice on my gown?"

"Not a chance of it. The interior is upholstered in rarest watered silk."

"Watered?"

"It's dry, don't worry."

"Thank you! Thank you!" Scarlet rushed off to tell Ylith about the wonderful invitation.

"Faith, child, Azzie has a spell over this whole place," Ylith replied. "It would take a plenipotentiary pass to get you out of here. And that, only the Powers of Darkness can supply."

"But what can I do?"

"Nothing, poor dear," she mused. "Though if you had Azzie's unlimited credit card, then a lot would be possible. And he keeps it so carelessly, too, in the upper pocket of his waist­coat. You'll just have to hope that he drops it when he visits you next, and that you can pick it up before he misses it."

"But what if he doesn't drop it?"

"Your own hands can help you," Ylith said. "Especially the left one."

Scarlet looked at her hands. The left one, the pickpocket's hand, was slightly smaller than the right one, and looked, she didn't know how to say it, somehow more Ay than its near mate.

"What is it about my left hand? I can see it's small and I suppose dainty. But what of it?"

"That hand has a skill for getting what you need."

"And if I had the card?"

"Why then," Ylith said, "you could call up a ballroom gown and get an order through to the Enchanted Ball Caterers. Then you could go to the ball, so long as you came straight back."

"Why are you telling me these things?"

Ylith looked away.

"Anger and pity, my dear," she said at length. "The first is a strength and the second a weakness. So think of it mainly as the first. And it is time that you learned about balls. And free will."

She patted Princess Scarlet's hand, which half succeeded in removing a jeweled ring as she was about it.

"Yes," she continued. "The hell with Azzie." And she smiled. "That's grace for you."

Chapter 6

The next time Azzie came to call, Princess Scarlet was all smiles. She chattered about her dreams, which were the only interesting things in her daily life. She showed Azzie dance steps she remembered from before her death. She danced tempestuously, her little feet stamping on the floor in the figures of the Seguriyas, and she ended in a whirl of move­ment as she pirouetted across the room and collapsed into Az­zie's arms. "Let me embrace you, Uncle, you have done so much for me!"

Azzie felt her small pointy breasts pressing into his chest, and thought not at all of what her clever little fingers were doing.

Ylith said, once she was alone with Scarlet, "Do you have it?"

Scarlet smiled, showing her even little teeth and the dim­ples in the corner of each cheek. She held up the black card. "Here it is!"

"Well done," Ylith said. "Now you have only to use it."

"Yes," Scarlet said, trying to stifle a yawn. "But what will I do about this damnable napping spell?"

"Have a good stiff slug of ichor," Ylith replied. "I'll add a spell. You'll sleep three or four times longer than usual, then be awake another three or four times as long afterward."

Scarlet brightened.

"Hurry," she said.

Chapter 7

The pumpkin coach glided up to the canopied reception area, moving silently on its radish wheels. The frog foot­man hopped out and opened the door for Scarlet. She stepped out, taking care not to mess her gown. It was a beautiful thing, pink tulle with a sprig of hyacinth, created especially for her by Michael of Perugia and charged to Azzie's account.

Uniformed attendants welcomed her and led her inside. The ballroom was a blaze of color and light. At the far end was the orchestra. Princess Scarlet was dazzled. Never had she seen a spectacle such as this. It was like something out of a fairy tale, and the fact that she herself was something out of a fairy tale made it no less wonderful.

"You must be Princess Scarlet!" Scarlet was being ad­dressed by a radiantly beautiful young woman of about her own age.

"Are you Princess Cinderella?" Scarlet said.

"How did you recognize me? Do I have soot on my nose?"

"Oh, no ... I just assumed... having gotten your invi­tation... ." Scarlet was filled with confusion, but Cinderella laughed and put her at ease. "It was just my little jest! I am so glad you could come. I heard you are under a sleeping spell."

"Actually it's a napping spell. But how did you hear about it?"

"Word gets around in the domain of fairy tales," Cinderella said. "If you should need them, we have resting rooms upstairs, and a variety of stimulants if your spell responds to chemical means."

"No need," Scarlet said. "I was able to get a temporary rescindment."

"However you did it, I am very glad you could come. This is the debutante event of the season, you know. We have many eligible bachelors here, mostly of the nobility, but also a few enterprising and famous commoners like Jack of the Beanstalk and Peer Gynt. Come, let me get you a glass of champagne and introduce you to some people."

Cinderella gave Scarlet a foaming glass of champagne and, taking her hand, led her around from one group of gorgeously dressed people to the next. Scarlet's head was awhirl, and the music - loud, rhythmic-was setting her dancer's toes to tap­ping. She was pleased when a tall, dark, handsome man in a gold lamé suit and crimson turban asked her to dance.

They whirled around the dance floor. The turbaned man introduced himself as Achmed Ali. He was a fine dancer, con­versant with the newest steps. Scarlet had a dancer's quick instinct for dance steps, and so she soon found herself doing the straddle duck, the limping elbow, the pigmy hop, the de­lirious dogleg, and the double wolverine, all dance sensations of that eventful year of the Mille