Copyright

Magic at Midnight, Fairies in the Forest and Goblins and Gold first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2019, 2019 and 2020

Published in this ebook pack edition in 2020

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Lindsey Kelk 2019 and 2020

Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019 and 2020

Illustrations copyright © Pippa Curnick 2019 and 2020

Lindsey Kelk and Pippa Curnick assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work respectively.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBNs: 9780008292119 (Magic at Midnight), 9780008292140 (Fairies in the Forest) and 9780008292171 (Goblins and Gold)

Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008402211

Version: 2020-02-14

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Magic at Midnight

Fairies in the Forest

Goblins and Gold

Books by Lindsey Kelk

About the Publisher

For Karrahan, Edie and Ayse,

who are already magic

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

‘A long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a girl. And, even though the girl was humble and poor, she was as kind as she was beautiful and, whenever she passed by, all the townsfolk would say she was—’

‘Incredibly boring?’

A young girl with messy hair and bright eyes stood in the doorway, yawning so hard her head almost fell right off her shoulders.

‘Good morning, Cinders.’ Margery, the storyteller and the girl’s stepmother, gave her a stern look. ‘Have you finished all your chores already?’

‘Yes,’ said Cinders.

‘You’ve chopped the wood?’

‘Yes,’ said Cinders.

‘You’ve fed the pigs?’

‘Yes,’ said Cinders.

‘Done all the dishes?’

Cinders looked back at the pile of plates, bowls and saucepans stacked up in the sink. She had not done all the dishes. She had not done any of the dishes.

‘Yes,’ said Cinders, swiftly stepping to the side to block her stepmother’s view of the kitchen. ‘May I go outside now?’

‘No,’ replied Margery, turning back to her book. ‘Ladies don’t play outside.’

‘Ladies stay inside and sit nicely,’ Cinders’s stepsister, Agnes, announced from her seat on the sofa. ‘Like us, listening to Mother reading. Ladies don’t ruin their dresses in the mud as you always do.’

‘I like reading but I like reading for myself, not listening to Margery,’ Cinders muttered, scratching at a stain on the hem of her dress. What had she spilled on it that was purple? ‘She doesn’t do all the voices. And I’d rather read outside, not cooped up in here. Sometimes it gets a bit muddy – I can’t help that.’

‘I wouldn’t mind reading outside,’ piped up Eleanor. ‘It’s a lovely day. Maybe I’d like it.’

‘You wouldn’t like it at all,’ Agnes informed her little sister. ‘There are bugs everywhere, and it would be no good at all for your complexion. You want to stay inside with me and Mother.’

‘Do I?’ Eleanor replied with a shrug. ‘If you say so …’

‘As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,’ Margery said, turning her back on Cinders, ‘there was a beautiful girl in a faraway kingdom and she was loved by everyone she met. She was good and truthful, and she never lied to her stepmother about finishing her chores when there was clearly a sink full of dishes waiting to be washed.’

Cinders sloped back into the kitchen, turned on the tap and stared out of the window. Not for the first time she wished the elves would make some kind of device for washing dishes instead of just useless things, like phones for playing games. A washy-dishy-thingy. Hmm. The name might need work.

Cinders sighed. Trust Eleanor to side with Agnes. They always ganged up against her. Before her father had remarried, she’d dreamed of having a loving mother and a sibling to play with, but instead she’d been saddled with Miserable Margery and the Terrible Twosome. Margery wasn’t so bad, but she thought about nothing but herself and how she looked and what people thought of her and her girls. She was always nagging Cinders, punishing her messiness and forgetfulness with chores, chores and more chores. It hadn’t been so bad when they’d first come to live in her pink cottage at the edge of the woods, but, as they’d got older, Cinders had realised her stepmother was always going to be bossy and boring, and that she and her stepsisters had absolutely nothing in common.

When she was inside, Cinders was always covered in glitter and glue or had paint in her hair. When she was outside, she loved to climb trees and chase her dog, Sparks, around the forest. Elly and Aggy hated to leave the house unless they were absolutely forced to do so. Their idea of a dreamy afternoon was poring over pictures of Prince Joderick before discussing the very latest trends in ribbon tying, or taking photos of themselves. More than anything, they hated the idea of any activity that might get them dirty. Cinders couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t head to toe in mud by the end of the day. All she wanted was an adventure. All her stepsisters wanted was a new elf phone.

Staring at the stack of dirty dishes, she sighed. ‘I’m going to be stuck here forever,’ she muttered under her breath, fixing her big green eyes on the bright blue sky above. ‘I wish these dishes would wash themselves.’

Cinders reached out for another dirty plate, but before she could even touch it she felt a jolt shoot through her hands. The plate jumped off its pile, plopped into the sink and disappeared under the bubbles with a splash.

Margery, Elly and Aggy all looked up at once at the sound.

‘Nothing to see here,’ Cinders called to them, smiling like a loon. ‘Just me, washing the dishes – same old, same old.’

Fishing around in the sink, she hunted for the missing piece of china in a panic. If she broke another plate, she’d be scrubbing the toilet for a month. Suddenly it flew up out of the sink and set itself on the kitchen table, squeaky clean and bone dry.

‘But I didn’t even touch you,’ Cinders whispered, pulling her hands out of the water. ‘What is happening?’

One by one, all the dirty dishes whizzed themselves into the sink and out again, piling up neatly on the table.

Cinders gazed at her fizzing fingertips, holding them up in the sunlight. Were they sparkling?

‘Good morning, good morning and a good day to all.’

It was her father.

Margery closed her book and presented him with a heavily powdered cheek for her morning kiss. He patted Elly and Aggy on the head and bumbled over to the kitchen to wrap Cinders up in a great big bear hug.

‘And a special good morning to you, my little princess,’ he said, pushing his spectacles all the way up his nose. ‘On dish duty again, are we? Whatever did you do this time?’

‘Nothing,’ she replied, sticking her suspiciously sparkly hands deep in the pockets of her apron. ‘Honest.’

‘She set the kitchen rug on fire, left my riding boots out in the rain and Agnes caught her feeding her vegetables to the dog,’ Margery corrected.

‘Did he like the vegetables?’ her father asked.

‘I think he would have preferred sausages,’ Cinders replied.

‘Me too,’ he agreed.

Margery sighed. Cinders smiled.

‘Well, well, well, I have a very busy day ahead of me,’ her father announced. ‘If the king wants to throw a ball, he’s going to need a ballroom, and most ballrooms, as I understand it, have a roof.’

‘It is traditional,’ Margery agreed.

Cinders’s father was the royal builder. Every day, he left their little pink cottage and travelled through the woods all the way to the palace. At night he would show Cinders his plans and sketches for towers and turrets, but she was never allowed to accompany her father into town. She dreamed of seeing the palace he had built for King Picklebottom, the place where her mother and father had met.

‘If you left off the roof, we could dance under the stars.’ Cinders twirled in a perfect pirouette and immediately crashed into a stack of tea towels.

‘You won’t be dancing under anything,’ Agnes said. ‘I hardly think the prince would invite someone like you to the ball.’

Cinders looked down at her stained, ragged dress, then over at her sisters with their glossy brown hair, painstakingly applied make-up and gorgeous, grown-up gowns. All before 9am on a Wednesday.

‘We’ll make a lady out of Cinders yet,’ her father said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘She is my little princess, after all.’

Aggy and Elly pretended to stick their fingers down their throats before turning on sweet smiles for their stepfather.

‘Do you think I might be able to go to the ball this time?’ Cinders asked her father. ‘I’d love to see the palace.’

‘Not this time, little one,’ he replied with a sad smile. ‘Maybe next year.’

He always said that.

‘You always say that,’ she said. ‘Aggy’s been to the palace. Elly’s been to the palace. Why can’t I go?’

She planted her hands on her hips and fixed her father with her most serious stare.

‘Oh, Cinders,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You just have to trust me. You’ll get to the palace one day, just not yet.’

It was the same story every time she asked – he always had a reason not to take her: there wasn’t room in his carriage; she wouldn’t like the food they served; everyone was far too busy to show her around. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her father was trying to keep her away from the palace altogether.

‘Fine. I’m going outside to feed Sparks,’ she said quickly, hugging her father goodbye and running outside before her stepmother could stop her. ‘But you’d better take me next time!’

Slamming the back door behind her, Cinders ran down the garden and cut into the forest as fast as her legs would carry her, until her father, her stepsisters, her stepmother and her dashed dreams of attending the king’s ball were left far, far behind. Sparks, her big, red fluffy dog, leaped to his feet and hurtled after his best friend. Once she was far enough away from the cottage, she plopped down on to the soft ground and examined her hands. Not a trace of sparkles, not even the slightest suggestion of fizziness.

‘What was all that about?’ she muttered to no one in particular.

‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ replied a snooty voice. ‘Could it possibly have had anything to do with sausages?’

Cinders jumped up and looked all around. ‘Who said that?’ But there was no one to be seen.

‘I don’t mean to harp on, but I’m terribly peckish. I haven’t had any breakfast yet, you see. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything in your pockets? A frankfurter? A hot dog? Even a chipolata would do the trick.’

Cinders blinked and rubbed her eyes. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought Sparks was the one talking.

‘Brilliant,’ she said with a big sigh. ‘I’ve gone mad. First I’m imagining flying dishes, and now a talking dog.’

Sparks wagged his large, shaggy tail.

‘What’s so mad about that?’ he asked. ‘A talking dog is a lot more sensible than leaving the house without so much as a single sausage, if you ask me.’

‘You’re talking!’ Cinders yelled.

‘Clearly,’ Sparks replied.

‘But dogs can’t talk!’ she shouted.

‘Well, I can,’ he said.

‘Everything all right over there?’

Cinders looked up to see her neighbours, Jack and Jill, walking towards her. Sparks stuck out his tongue and panted happily.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, keeping one eye on her dog. ‘Although I’m starting to think I might have bumped my head in the night.’

‘Nasty business that,’ Jack said, pointing to his own bandaged noggin. ‘You want to be careful.’

‘Try wrapping it up with some vinegar and brown paper,’ Jill suggested. ‘That always works for us.’

‘Thanks,’ Cinders said, waving them off as they disappeared down the path. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘Vinegar also happens to go very nicely with chips, which go even better with sausages,’ Sparks commented, making his friend jump. ‘Just a suggestion I’m putting out there.’

Cinders stared at the big red dog in front of her. ‘You can talk,’ she whispered.

‘Apparently so,’ he replied in a woofy yet dignified voice.

‘But you’ve been mine since I was a baby,’ Cinders said. ‘How come you’ve only just started talking today?’

‘Never really felt like it before,’ he said, scratching his ear with a hind leg. ‘To be honest, most of the things you lot talk about are very dull. Ooh, the prince has got a new cape. Ooh, they’ve painted the castle blue. Ooh, it’s raining – no it’s not, yes it is. Blah-blah-blah.’

‘Well, there’s no need to be rude,’ Cinders replied, looking at her hands again. If Sparks really was talking, perhaps those dishes really did fly into the sink earlier. Or maybe she really had hit her head. ‘I wish there was someone who could explain what’s going on.’

‘Maybe there is,’ Sparks said with a wink. ‘Though I wish we had some sausages.’

‘Me too.’ Cinders rubbed her hand against her rumbling tummy. ‘I wish we had a whole plateful of sausages.’ Before she could even blink, her hands began to tingle and a giant platter, piled high with plump pork sausages, appeared in front of them.

‘Whatever you just did,’ Sparks said as he dived towards the pile of porkies, ‘please do it again.’

‘What is going on?’ Cinders demanded, waving her glittery hands in the air. ‘I wish everything would just stop for a moment!’

And everything did.

Everything and everyone was silent and still. Sparks was frozen in mid-air, a family of bluebirds hovered overhead and a pair of butterflies hung happily in the sky as though time had stopped completely.

‘Oh, dear me,’ Cinders said. ‘This can’t be good.’

‘Hello?’ Cinders waved a glittering hand in front of Sparks’s face. He didn’t move. She clicked her fingers up at the bluebirds, but they just stayed exactly where they were, floating right above her head.

‘Oh, dear me indeed,’ she said again. ‘This isn’t good at all.’

‘I don’t know … It’s nice to have a bit of peace and quiet sometimes, isn’t it?’

A tiny red-haired woman appeared as if from nowhere. She gave Cinders a little wave and snagged some sausages from the plate in front of Sparks’s nose, munching away happily while Cinders stared. Like most people with at least one half-decent parent, she had been brought up not to stare, but it was hard not to gawp at this woman. Her hair was almost the exact same shade of red as Sparks’s fur, and her skin was so pale that it almost glittered. She was a very stare-at-able person.

And that was before you even considered the fact that she had a pair of wings sprouting out of her back.

And was floating.

In the air.

‘Okay, someone’s going to have to tell me what’s going on,’ Cinders said, looking her new friend up and down, from her big black boots and bright blue tutu to the floppy purple bow in her hair.

‘Brilliant.’ She finished off a sausage and licked her fingers before starting on another. ‘Having a difficult day?’

‘You could say that,’ Cinders said. She wrapped her arms round Sparks, trying to pull him back down to the ground, but he wouldn’t budge. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any idea what’s going on?’

‘I could hazard a guess.’ The woman looked up at the floating dog. ‘Magic isn’t always terribly reliable, especially when you’re just starting out.’

‘Magic?’

Cinders let go of Sparks and looked down at her fingers.

‘What else did you think was going on?’ The little pale lady held out her hand. ‘Hello, I’m your godmother.’

Remembering her manners, Cinders took the hand in her own and her skin began to tingle again. ‘I think you might have the wrong person,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got a godmother.’

‘Actually, you have –’ the woman fluttered her wings – ‘because I’m it. I realise I’m a bit late, but, in my defence, you were very difficult to find. You’re not on any kind of social media, are you? What’s that all about? Oh, I should have introduced myself properly – you can call me Brian.’

Cinders looked down and realised she was still shaking the woman’s hand.

‘Where I’m from, Brian is generally considered a man’s name,’ she said as politely as possible, letting go of Brian’s hand.

‘Says who?’ Brian replied. ‘It’s a perfectly good name. Why on earth would you stop half the people on the planet using it?’

‘Beats me,’ Cinders said. ‘That’s just how it is.’

Brian shook her head in disagreement. ‘You make no sense, you people. Doesn’t really matter, does it? I do love the way it rolls off the tongue.’

To be fair, Cinders couldn’t really argue with her.

‘Anyway, I’m not sure you’d be able to pronounce my real name,’ Brian went on. ‘So let’s stick with Brian for now. I’m guessing you’ve got some questions.’

‘One or two.’ Cinders nodded. ‘Mostly about the whole magic thing. And the godmother thing. And the talking dog. And the wings.’

‘The last one is easy. I need the wings to fly,’ Brian replied, speaking very clearly, as if Cinders might not understand. ‘And I’m your godmother because your mother chose me to be your godmother. That’s usually how that works. As for the magic, I don’t know why it’s decided to show itself today, but, if you want to tell me what you’ve been up to, that might give me a clue.’

‘You knew my mother!’ Cinders’s eyes opened wide. ‘Oh my goodness, please can you tell me about her?’ Whenever she asked her father about her mother, he went all quiet and got a faraway look in his eyes.

‘I can.’ Brian nodded. ‘But shouldn’t we get your dog back on the ground first?’

‘I suppose we should,’ Cinders agreed. ‘I don’t know what happened. One minute he was just an ordinary dog and the next he started talking. Then I wished things would stop for a moment and everything froze.’

‘Ah, there you have it,’ Brian said with a wise smile. ‘You made a wish. Wishes are very powerful, you know.’

‘I wished for the sausages as well,’ Cinders said slowly. ‘And I wished that the dishes would do themselves. Are you telling me I can grant my own wishes?’

‘Who else do you expect to grant them?’ Brian asked. ‘I might be a fairy, but I’ve got far better things to do with my day than produce a plate of sausages out of thin air every time someone clicks their fingers. Although, that said, these are very tasty sausages.’

‘You’re a fairy?’ Cinders asked, saucer-eyed.

Brian fluttered her wings. ‘These things didn’t give it away? You know, your mum was a lot cleverer than you.’

‘And you really knew my mother?’

‘You could say that,’ Brian replied, turning a somersault in mid-air. ‘You look a lot like her, you know.’

Other than her father, Cinders had never, ever met anyone who had known her mother, and every time she asked her father to tell her a story about their life together he looked so sad she couldn’t stand it. Brian was the first person she’d ever met who had so much as heard of her mother, and she was real-life, flying fairy.

Cinders really needed a little sit-down.

‘I’ve never met a fairy before,’ she said slowly. ‘I didn’t think they were real. I mean, I know there are elves and I met an exceptionally disagreeable troll who lives under the bridge once upon a time, but I thought fairies were … well. From fairy tales.’

Brian looked slightly concerned. ‘I think I’m real,’ she replied. ‘At least I’d better be. I’ve left the oven on at home and there’ll be hell to pay if I accidentally burn the house down.’

Brian, Cinders decided, was definitely real.

‘Any more questions?’ her fairy godmother asked. ‘I haven’t got all day, you know.’

‘How do we get him back on the ground?’ Cinders asked, turning her attention to Sparks. Her stepmother had been furious when she shrank her favourite jumper in the wash, and she would not be happy if Cinders left the dog hanging around in mid-air.

‘Wishes are tricky things,’ Brian said. ‘Sometimes they stick; sometimes they don’t. Depends how much you mean it when you make the wish. Your magic definitely isn’t all there yet, so, if you can wait until midnight, the spell should undo itself. Magic always runs out at midnight.’

‘I think we should try to get him down before then,’ Cinders said, patting his big red head. ‘This is literally the worst day for him to start talking. I’m never going to hear the end of it.’

‘As your magic grows, you’ll have more control over it,’ Brian promised, helping herself to more sausages. ‘But while you’re learning you’ll have to speak your wishes out loud. And they must be very, very specific wishes, otherwise, well, I don’t need to tell you what could happen.’ Brian waved her hand at the frozen bluebirds and the flying dog.

‘All I have to do is make a wish?’ Cinders asked.

Brian the fairy gave a nod.

‘I wish things would go back to normal,’ Cinders said.

Her fingertips started to sparkle then glow and, in the blink of an eye, the birds began singing, the butterflies flapped away into the sky and Sparks dived face first into the now-empty plate of sausages.

‘All right, someone’s got some explaining to do,’ he grunted, rubbing his snout with a paw. ‘Who is this? What’s going on?’

‘I think the first thing you need to do is have a chat with those two,’ Brian said, pointing across the clearing to where Aggy and Elly were staring, slack-jawed, at Cinders, Sparks and her fairy godmother.

‘Oh, good grief.’ Cinders clapped a hand across her forehead as Elly grabbed her sister’s hand and legged it back through the forest. ‘I’d better try to explain before they tell my stepmother what they saw. Will you wait here, um, Brian?’

‘No,’ said Brian with a big, cheery smile. ‘But I will see you later. Now get back home before the messenger leaves.’

With that, she vanished.

‘Messenger?’ Cinders said to Sparks. ‘What is she talking about?’

‘Haven’t the foggiest,’ Sparks replied, ‘but can you please explain one thing?’

‘I can try.’ Cinders sighed. ‘It’s all a bit complicated, isn’t it? What with the magic, the fairy godmother and you talking all of a sudden.’

‘Who cares about any of that?’ Sparks gestured at the empty plate. ‘What on earth happened to all my sausages?’

At the exact same time as Cinders and Sparks arrived back at the cottage, a short man on a tall horse galloped away, tooting on a horn as he went.

‘That must be the messenger Brian was talking about,’ said Sparks. ‘Did you see the royal crest on his cloak?’

‘That’s the least of my problems,’ Cinders replied. ‘What do you think Elly and Aggy saw in the forest?’

As it turned out, Elly and Aggy had seen everything.

‘And there was a lady with red hair and she had wings!’ Aggy wailed as Cinders walked into the cottage with Sparks close behind. ‘And Sparks was floating!’

Closing her eyes and crossing her fingers, Cinders prepared herself for the worst. But Margery didn’t say a thing. When Cinders opened her eyes, she saw that her stepmother was far too busy reading a golden scroll to listen to her daughters.

‘And then the lady with the wings disappeared!’ Aggy squealed. ‘Poof – just like that!’

‘Agnes, I do not have time to listen to your nonsense,’ Margery announced. ‘And I’ve told you before, I won’t have you telling lies.’

‘But it’s not a lie,’ Aggy said sulkily. ‘There was a lady with wings and Sparks was flying and—’

‘Enough!’ snapped her mother, waving the scroll in the air. ‘Can any of you guess what this scroll says?’

Aggy and Elly shook their heads.

‘Obviously not,’ Cinders replied, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Who sends scrolls any more? Why wouldn’t they send you a DM like normal people?’

‘Because it isn’t from normal people,’ Margery replied. ‘This is from the palace. It’s an invitation to the king’s ball, the most fabulous party the palace has ever thrown.’

Elly and Aggy forgot all about Brian as soon as they heard the word ‘ball’.

‘Will we have new dresses, Mother?’ asked Elly.

Margery nodded.

‘And new shoes?’ asked Aggy.

Margery nodded.

‘Can I go too?’ asked Cinders.

‘Certainly not,’ replied Margery. ‘Your name isn’t on the invitation, so you’re not invited. And I don’t want to hear another word on the matter. Now haven’t you got chores to do?’

Of course the answer was yes. Cinders always had chores to do.

A whole week went by and Cinders hadn’t been able to make a single wish come true.

Every morning, she woke up and did all her jobs: she washed the dishes, fed the animals and polished her stepsisters’ shoes until she could see her own sad face reflected in the super-shiny leather. She hadn’t teased Elly or Aggy, she hadn’t talked back to her stepmother and she hadn’t eaten a single cake all week long. Once the whole cottage was spick and span, Cinders snuck out of the house and into the forest with Sparks at her side where they spent each and every day wishing and wishing and wishing for Brian to come back and tell Cinders more about her mother.

But nothing happened.

‘Maybe you’re not magic after all,’ Sparks suggested, merrily chewing on a saveloy he had yoinked from the kitchen. ‘Maybe it was all a dream.’

‘Says Sparks the Talking Dog,’ Cinders replied. She lay down on the grass and stared up at the cloudless sky. ‘I don’t understand why none of my wishes are coming true any more. My fairy godmother hasn’t been back, and I don’t even get to go to the ball tonight. Everything’s just so rubbish.’

‘Sounds grand to me,’ Sparks said. ‘Nice empty house, no one yapping on while I’m trying to have a nap.’

‘Weren’t you the one who woke everyone up this morning?’ Cinders asked with a stern look. ‘Barking at a squirrel?’

‘That squirrel was quite clearly trying to break into the house and steal all the biscuits,’ he replied, his fluffy red fur standing on end. ‘I was merely protecting the family.’

‘Whatever.’ Cinders sighed. ‘I just really, really, really want to see the palace. You know that’s where my mum and dad met?’

Sparks sat up straight. ‘Then go,’ he said. ‘What’s stopping you?’

Cinders shook her head at her silly friend. He might be able to talk, but he was no genius.

‘I haven’t got a dress,’ she explained with her eyes closed. ‘Or a carriage. Or a horse to pull the carriage. Or a footman to take care of the horses I haven’t got to pull my non-existent carriage.’

Cinders stretched out in the grass and imagined how beautiful the palace must look. Even though she’d never seen it, she dreamed about it all the time and her father often sat with her in her room, telling her tales of the white marble staircase and tall white towers with turrets that stretched up high into the sky. Tonight it would be at its most fabulous, all lit up with candles, music playing, people dancing and, in the middle of it all, her father, proudly showing off the new ballroom he had built for this very occasion.

‘Perhaps your wishes haven’t been working because you weren’t wishing for things you really, really wanted,’ Sparks suggested after a quiet moment. ‘When do your stepsisters leave for the palace?’

‘Margery said the carriage was leaving after lunch.’ Cinders opened one eye. The sun was high in the sky and her tummy was rumbling. Lunchtime must have been hours ago. ‘Why?’

‘Let’s go home,’ he suggested,

‘and see

what we

can see.’

The little pink cottage was as quiet as a mouse when they returned. Actually, it was as quiet as the two white mice Cinders and Sparks saw running to hide behind the sofa when they opened the door.

‘Right, we need a dress, a carriage and two horses,’ Sparks said, kicking the door closed with his back legs while Cinders grabbed half a leftover doughnut from the kitchen worktop and gobbled it up in two big bites. ‘There’s no fairy godmother here to conjure those up, so what are you going to do?’

‘I’ve waited my whole life to go to the palace and today’s the day. If no one’s going to help me, I’ll just have to help myself,’ Cinders said, determined. She squeezed her hands into tight little fists, scrunched up her face and concentrated as hard as she possibly could. ‘I wish I had a ballgown of my very own.’

At first the fizzing feeling was very faint. Just a tiny tickling in the tippity-tips of her fingers.

Then it began to grow. Her whole hand started to glimmer and gleam and suddenly Cinders’s entire body was covered in gold sparkles.

‘Ooh, steady on,’ Sparks said, backing away and hiding under the settee.

‘I think it’s working!’ Cinders shouted, spinning round and round and round.

‘That or you’re about to turn into a human firework display,’ Sparks called back. ‘Which would really be very inconvenient.’

Slowly, the spinning stopped and the sparkles faded away.

‘Did it work?’ Cinders asked.

‘I think it did,’ Sparks replied, his tongue hanging out of a big doggy smile.

‘Good golly gosh,’ Cinders whispered as she turned to look in the mirror. ‘It most certainly did.’

Instead of her usual rags, Cinders saw something altogether different. Gone was the messy girl with blueberry stains on her skirt and her wild hair. Instead she was staring at a fine young lady wearing a glorious gown. At first it looked as though it had been spun from silver silk, but, every time she moved, the fabric shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow. Her hair was soft and curly and, for the first time in what felt like her entire life, she was spotlessly clean. Cinders had never seen herself look that way before. If she didn’t know who she was, she wouldn’t have even recognised herself.

‘What do you think?’ she asked Sparks, still stunned.

‘I think you need to put something on your feet,’ he said, disappearing into the cupboard, his tail wagging behind him. ‘Let’s see if these fit.’

Sparks dropped a pair of beautiful shoes in front of his best friend. They looked as though they were made of glass and, just like the dress, they sparkled in the light, shining with more colours than Cinders could name. She slipped them on and gasped with delight. A perfect fit!

‘Wherever did these come from?’ she asked, tapping and turning in her new shoes. It felt as though they’d been made just for her.

‘They were your mother’s,’ Sparks replied, still smiling. ‘I’d have given them to you before, but glass slippers don’t really go with rags.’

She couldn’t be sure, but Cinders was fairly certain she could feel the same magical tingle in her toes as soon as she slipped on the shoes.

‘Come on then,’ Sparks said. ‘We’re not done yet. We still need a carriage, horses and a footman, and we haven’t got all day.’

‘Hmm …’ Cinders took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She really, really, really wanted to go to the ball. ‘I wish I had a carriage and a horse and a footman.’

‘Two horses!’ Sparks corrected. ‘Or you’ll be riding round in circles.’

‘Two horses!’ Cinders agreed as the tingling began again. ‘Ooh, here we go!’

As the sparkles began to surround her, she felt herself spinning round and round and round again.

‘Oh, no!’ Sparks yelped. ‘Cinders, make it stop!’

‘Is everything all right?’ she shouted. She couldn’t see a thing.

‘I should say not,’ Sparks replied as the spinning and sparkles subsided.

Once she had steadied herself, Cinders opened her eyes and gasped. A short, stout, red-headed man with big brown eyes stood in the centre of the room, dressed in a red satin suit, wearing a very familiar leather collar.

‘Sparks?’ Cinders asked.

‘The utter indignity,’ he muttered, brushing off his spotless sleeves. ‘However am I supposed to stay up on my hind legs all night long? And would you look at those poor mice?’

Cinders turned to see two tall speckled horses standing in the middle of the kitchen.

‘They’ve still got their whiskers,’ she said, grabbing two sugar lumps from the tea tray and offering them to her new four-legged friends. They both shook their heads, whinnying in disgust. Thinking fast, Cinders grabbed a big block of cheese from the cupboard, chopped it half and held out her hands. The horse-mice gobbled it up in two seconds flat.

‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘I suppose I am still learning.’

‘Yes,’ Sparks agreed as he pushed past her to open the door. ‘I suppose you are. And don’t forget we have to be back before midnight – Brian said magic usually runs out at midnight.’ He began leading the way to the carriage.

As he went, Cinders noticed a bright red bushy tail poking out from the back of his trousers.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said, pushing her horse-mice through the kitchen door and out towards the huge crystal carriage waiting for them in the yard. ‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.’

‘Too late to change your mind now,’ Sparks replied, wagging his tail.

‘Wow,’ Cinders gasped when they pulled up in front of the palace. ‘It’s flipping enormous.’

‘It’s a palace,’ Sparks replied. ‘They tend to be rather on the large side. Hmm now, can you smell that? I bet the sausages here are out of this world.’

Cinders climbed down from her crystal carriage as gracefully as possible (which wasn’t very graceful at all) and gasped. The palace really was a sight to see. She thought it might be bigger than her entire village, and the six shining white turrets stretched all the way up into the sky. Music poured out of every window and Cinders found herself swaying back and forth as her two horse-mice squeaked along in time to the tune.

‘Excuse me, milady.’

She looked up to see a tall guard, wearing an incredibly elaborate hat, staring down at her.

‘Me?’ Cinders asked. For a moment, she had completely forgotten what she was wearing and why she was there. She loved music so much and never heard it at home. Anything even approaching a tune gave her stepmother a headache.

‘Yes, milady,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to need you to move your carriage.’

‘Right,’ Cinders agreed, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. ‘Footman, take the carriage and the horses, ah, wherever one takes carriages and horses.’

‘At once, modom,’ Sparks the footman said with a very doggy-like growl.

‘One will be inside eating as many sausages as one can get one’s hands on,’ she said. ‘Perhaps one will be able to bring you, um, one.’

The palace guard gave her a funny look before waving her towards what looked like an endless marble staircase that led into the palace.

‘Have fun,’ Sparks replied with a wink and what sounded like a woof as she tottered away in her mother’s glass slippers. ‘And remember we have to be home before midnight!’

When she finally made it all the way to the top of the staircase, Cinders couldn’t believe her eyes. Just as her father had promised, there was a glorious new ceiling above the ballroom, painted to look exactly like the night sky and studded with diamonds to show where the stars should be.

Everything was so grand and everyone was so fancy that it looked as if one of her sisters’ celebrity magazines had come to life. Cinders had never seen so many colourful gowns or powdered wigs. Come to think of it, she’d never actually seen a powdered wig before. Almost everyone in the room was wearing what looked like a bright white hat made out of hair. The only people without such a silly thing seemed to be the servants, and they didn’t look very happy at all.

‘I wish I had a powdered wig,’ Cinders whispered under her breath. For a second, she felt a faint tingle in her fingertips, followed by something prickly. She looked down and saw a tiny tree branch covered in flour.

‘I said a powdered wig, not a powdery twig,’ she muttered as her cheeks began to flush with embarrassment. Would everyone be able to tell she didn’t belong? All she wanted to do was dance and sing and find a plate of sausages for Sparks, but instead she hovered by the entrance to the ballroom, too afraid to join in. Maybe her family was right – maybe she didn’t belong at the palace after all.

‘Perhaps I should find something to eat,’ she said to herself, throwing away the twig and rubbing her grumbling tummy. ‘I always feel better after a snack.’

And – oh – what snacks she found!

The palace cooks had prepared the most incredible-looking feast Cinders had ever seen. Roast suckling pigs, enormous whole turkey legs, tureens of soup, baskets full of bread and platter after platter piled with candied fruit, cakes, biscuits, sweets and the biggest wibbly-wobbly jellies in the world.

For seven long days, Cinders hadn’t so much as looked at anything sweet. She’d been on her very best behaviour ever since she’d found out about her fairy godmother, and in her stepmother’s house very best behaviour meant absolutely no sweet treats. But Cinders had an uncontrollable sweet tooth, especially for cake, and now, standing in front of the dessert table, she was powerless to resist.

‘Maybe just one little slice,’ she said, grabbing a plate and reaching across the table for the slightest sliver of chocolate gateau. ‘And just half a biscuit. And maybe some of these little jelly things. And I really would like to try the blancmange …’

Before she knew it, Cinders’s plate was piled so high she could barely manage to carry it.

Hmm. Now where to sit?

There were a dozen or so tables on the other side of the feast, covered in crisp white cloths, where she spotted some of the powdered-wig wearers tucking in to their dinner.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, approaching a tall, skinny man with a ginger moustache, who was eating alone at one of the tables. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’

‘All these seats are taken,’ he replied without even looking at Cinders.

‘But there’s no one else here.’ She glanced round the empty table, confused.

‘All these seats are taken,’ he said again.

‘Must be rough having all those friends,’ she muttered as she walked away, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, Cinders moved on to the next table. Five of the seats were filled with girls about her own age, but one remained enticingly empty.

‘Hello,’ Cinders said, straining under the weight of her groaning plate. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’

‘No,’ replied one of the girls. Cinders couldn’t help but notice they all looked almost exactly alike. The same powdered wig, the same bright blue lipstick and nearly identical ballgowns, all in slightly different shades of pink. ‘Do sit down.’

‘Thanks!’

Cinders pulled out the chair and sat down. To her surprise, something moved under the table, something warm and furry, tickling her leg. She looked under the tablecloth.

No, not furry. Woolly.

Under the table were a number of sheep, with bows tied in their wool.

‘Er …’ she said. ‘There are sheep under the table.’

‘Oh, yes, those are mine,’ said the girl who had invited her to sit down. ‘I’m Bo Peep. I never go anywhere without my sheep, not since I lost them once.’

‘Oh …’ said Cinders. ‘Right.’

She began tucking into her treats. She’d never eaten anything so glorious in all her life! Only when she was halfway through her plate did she realise that all five girls were staring at her.

‘Would you like a cookie?’ she asked, reluctantly pushing her plate towards them.

‘Oh, no!’ said Bo Peep. ‘We only eat greens.’

‘We only eat greens,’ echoed one of the other girls, and another nodded.

‘Where on earth did you get that dress?’ Bo Peep asked.

‘I made it,’ Cinders replied, looking down at her beautiful gown. It was more or less true after all. ‘Where did you get yours?’

‘We all got ours from Monsieur Couture, of course,’ the second girl said. ‘Everyone gets their dresses from Monsieur Couture.’

‘Ah.’ Cinders nodded. ‘That explains why they all look the same … er … same kind of lovely. They’re very nice. I like all the ruffles.’

In truth, Cinders did not like the ruffles – there were far too many of them. You could, after all, have too much of a good thing.

‘Why aren’t you wearing a hairpiece?’ the third girl asked.

‘You mean a wig?’ Cinders gestured towards their matching hairdos. ‘Um, I must have left mine in my carriage. Silly me.’

‘You’ve got chocolate cake on your face,’ the fourth girl said.

‘Saving it for later,’ Cinders muttered, swiping at her cheek with a napkin.

‘Maybe you should sit somewhere else,’ the fifth girl suggested.

‘Maybe I should,’ Cinders agreed, jumping to her feet and picking up her plate of desserts. ‘Have a lovely evening, everyone.’

Struggling to keep a smile on her face, Cinders trotted away from the table and looked for somewhere else to sit. Who wanted to spend the evening with such boring people anyway? If she wanted to sit around, not eat sweets and talk about fancy dresses all evening, she could stay home with her stepsisters. Plus, they all looked the same. Bo Peep and her sheep, she thought to herself.

After all that effort, the ball was a bust.

Even though she could see people dancing and eating, no one looked as if they were truly enjoying themselves. There was no laughter, no singing and the musicians were struggling to play in their tight, high collars and big, heavy wigs. At the furthest end of the ballroom, Cinders saw three thrones. Right in the middle, perched on the biggest throne, sat the king. He was a shortish, greyish, grumpy-looking man who was sulking in the middle of the biggest party his kingdom had seen in years. To his right was the queen. She was also shortish, greyish and grumpy-looking, which made her slightly skew-whiff powdered wig and ruffled rose-pink gown look really quite silly. The throne to the left of the king was empty.

‘Should have sat there,’ Cinders said, nibbling on some nougat. ‘I wonder where the prince is.’

Still holding her incredibly heavy plate, Cinders glanced around the room, looking for a place to sit. Just when she was about to give up and go home, she spotted a pair of legs disappearing under a table laden with salads and vegetables. Strangely enough, now that Bo Peep’s crowd had eaten, no one seemed to be too bothered about the salad station. Trying not to draw attention to herself, Cinders sidled over to the veggies and stuck her head underneath the heavy tablecloth.

A boy with a crown on his head and cake all over his face stared back at her.

‘Hello.’ Cinders put her plate on the floor and clambered under the table. No easy task in a ballgown. ‘Who are you hiding from?’

‘Everyone?’ the boy replied. ‘Hello, I’m Prince Joderick.’

Cinders held out her hand and, after a moment’s consideration, Prince Joderick shook it.

‘I’m Cinderella, but everyone calls me Cinders,’ she said.

‘Why?’ the prince asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Cinders replied. ‘Cinderella is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?’

‘No one calls me Jodders,’ the prince said, furrowing his brow. ‘And Joderick Jorenson Picklebottom is much worse than Cinderella.’

‘Probably because you’re a prince and I most certainly am not a princess,’ she said. ‘Thank goodness.’

Prince Joderick looked surprised. ‘You don’t want to be a princess?’ he asked.

Cinders shook her head while shovelling a huge brownie into her mouth. ‘No, thank you very much,’ she said. ‘Not if I’d have to live like this. I thought this was going to be a fun party, but everyone looks so miserable. I’d much rather live in my pink cottage in the forest where I can run around in the woods or play with my dog. Although, I have to say, the puddings here are top-notch.’

The prince looked surprised, as if he wasn’t used to people telling him what they really thought, but he rather liked it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cinders apologised. ‘I always say the wrong thing when I’m nervous.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ the prince said. ‘And you shouldn’t be nervous – I’m the one who’s hiding under a table after all.’

‘Why are you hiding from everyone?’ Cinders asked. It did seem a little off when she thought about it.

‘My father threw this party so I could choose someone to marry,’ Joderick explained. Cinders almost choked on her chocolate cake. Aggy and Elly would be beside themselves. ‘But I’d much rather be riding my horse or playing video games or baking.’

‘Baking?’ Now he was talking.

‘I made those brownies.’ Prince Joderick nodded at Cinders’s plate. ‘I’m a pretty good baker, but my dad doesn’t like me to do it. He says that’s Cook’s job.’

Cinders considered this for a moment while she chewed another brownie. ‘Controversial thought, but have you ever considered telling your dad to hop it?’ she asked. ‘Because you really shouldn’t waste your time getting married when you could be in the kitchen knocking out another batch of these wonderful things.’

‘No one tells my father what to do,’ Joderick gasped. He marvelled at the brave girl in front of him, currently devouring her third brownie. ‘He’s the king.’

Cinders shrugged. ‘Seems to me you need to learn how to stand up for yourself,’ she said, thinking about her stepmother. It also seemed to her that she and Joderick had a lot in common. ‘You shouldn’t have to do things you don’t want to do.’

‘I think I will have to get married eventually,’ Joderick said. ‘Everyone does, don’t they?’

Cinders shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s the law, but if you’re dead set on it I’ve got two sisters who would both love to marry you.’

The prince perked up a little. ‘Really? Are they anything like you?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Cinders replied sadly. ‘Not at all.’

For a while, the two new friends carried on eating their cakes in silence.

‘I’m going to have to go back out there in a moment,’ Joderick said, pushing away his empty plate and wiping his face on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘At midnight, I’m supposed to dance with the person I’ve chosen to marry.’

‘Midnight?’ Cinders sat up so quickly she bonked her head on the table above them. ‘It’s almost midnight?’

‘It is,’ he confirmed before adding shyly, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to dance with me, Cinders?’

‘I’m very sorry, but I have to go.’ Cinders grabbed a couple of extra brownies and tucked them into the pockets of her dress – because all the best dresses have pockets – and scrambled out from underneath the table. ‘It was nice to meet you, Jodders!’

‘Cinders, wait!’ Joderick yelled as Cinders dashed away, only pausing to grab a handful of sausages as she went.

‘Cinders?’ A familiar voice echoed that of the prince.

Cinders froze. Smack bang in front of her were the two biggest powdered wigs and enormous pink gowns with the most ruffles she had seen all night.

Elly.

And Aggy.

‘Excusez-moi,’ Cinders said, putting on a pretend accent and covering her face with her hands. ‘’Ave you seen le prince? I believe ’e is looking for someone to – ’ow do you say? – wed.’

‘Someone to wed?’ Both girls turned away from their stepsister without a second glance and scuttled off to hunt for Prince Joderick.

Cinders breathed out a sigh. Then she bolted out of the ballroom, ran along the hallway and leaped all the way down the marble staircase to find Sparks the footman and her two horse-mice waiting with the crystal carriage. She jumped inside, face first, and her ballgown blew up over her head, displaying her bloomers to the entire kingdom.

‘Home, Sparks,’ she sighed from underneath her skirts as the palace clock began to chime. ‘And don’t spare the horses.’

‘There’s no way we can get home before midnight,’ Sparks replied. Cinders looked up to see his red hair slowly transforming into a pair of silly shaggy ears as the palace clock chimed again. ‘And will you just look at your so-called horses!’

Cinders stuck her head out of the carriage to see their thick braided tails change into long, pink mouse tails.

‘No one will help me if I don’t help myself,’ she whispered, squeezing her hands into fists. ‘I wish we were at home already.’

This time, the magic came quickly. The sparkles showered the coach and, for a moment, everything was a blur. The next thing Cinders knew, her bottom hit the ground with a bump. She was outside her cottage, wearing her rags, one glass slipper on her foot and the other nowhere to be seen. Sparks sat in front of her, happily chewing the sausages she’d grabbed on her way out of the palace. One of her former horse-mice squeaked angrily before running away under the front door of the house.

‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said, picking herself up and dusting herself down. ‘Everything’s back to normal.’

‘Not quite everything,’ Sparks said, still scoffing his sausages.

Cinders had turned two mice into horses, but only one had turned back into a mouse. The other stood in front of her, still very much a horse, but with shiny whiskers and a long pink tail.

‘Oh,’ Cinders said.

‘Squeak,’ replied the horse-mouse.

‘Maybe it isn’t quite midnight,’ Cinders suggested. ‘Maybe he’ll change back at the stroke of twelve.’

‘Or maybe it’s already five past,’ Sparks said, ‘and this is a bit of a magical hiccup.’

‘I should say.’ Cinders grabbed the horse-mouse’s reins and led him into the stable. ‘I’m sorry, Mouse. I promise I’ll find a way to fix you.’

Mouse squeaked happily, flicked his tail and curled up in the corner of the stable as best he could. At least he didn’t seem too upset about his predicament. Though he was trying to clean his whiskers with his hooves, which looked quite awkward.

‘Tell me everything,’ Sparks insisted, following Cinders back across the garden and into the cottage. ‘Was it marvellous? Magnificent? Everything you’ve ever dreamed?’

‘Actually, it was really boring,’ she told him. ‘Everyone was so prim and proper and no one was having fun. But I did meet the prince and he was okay.’

‘Who cares about the prince? I want to know about the food!’ Sparks said. ‘Those sausages were the best I’ve ever had.’

‘The food was easily the best part,’ Cinders admitted, hugging her mother’s shoe. ‘Still, it was rather a fine adventure. Wait, did you see my other shoe outside?’

‘I’ll go and have a look,’ Sparks offered, wagging his tail all the way out of the front door. ‘Sometimes your stepmother is right about you, Cinders. You don’t know how to look after your things.’

As the door slammed shut behind him, Cinders grabbed one of Aggy’s pink dresses from the laundry pile, wrapped a white towel on top of her head and began to twirl round the living room, singing to herself and holding her one remaining glass slipper high in the air.

‘How do you do? I am Cinders, Princess of the Pink Cottage, and I only wear dresses with more ruffles than sense,’ she announced to her reflection. ‘And, don’t you know, anyone who is anyone is covering their hair in talcum powder these days?’

While she was busy spinning round the room, she heard a commotion coming from outside the cottage.

‘Sparks! What are you doing out at this hour? Cinders was supposed to lock you up in the basement before she went to bed.’

It was her stepmother! And she was home far too early. That couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

‘The prince definitely said Cinders,’ Aggy said. ‘We heard him, Mama.’

‘The prince also refused to dance with anyone at the stroke of midnight so there’s quite clearly something wrong with him,’ Margery replied. ‘You must have misheard.’

‘The king seemed very angry,’ Elly added fretfully. ‘Do you think Prince Joderick will be in trouble?’

‘He’s in trouble with me,’ her mother replied. ‘Imagine sending everyone in the entire kingdom home early and without so much as a thank-you for coming. Frère Jacques came all the way from France! And for what? A couple of hours of dancing and a slice of sub-par cake? I don’t know, the prince has proven himself to be quite the spoiled young man.’

Inside, Cinders wriggled out of Aggy’s pink dress, threw the towel down on the floor and ran as fast as she could to her tiny little cupboard of a bedroom, clutching her mother’s glass slipper to her chest. The old wooden door stuck on its hinges, protesting with a loud creak as she tried her hardest to crack it open.

‘Now, now, Margery,’ Cinders’s father said as his keys jingle-jangled in the lock. ‘Prince Joderick is a fine young man. Imagine being presented with a room full of people you’ve never met and being told to pick one to live with for the rest of your life. That’s not how love works, my dear.’

‘Who’s talking about love?’ Margery retorted. ‘I’m talking about marriage.’

‘You old romantic,’ Cinders’s father chuckled. ‘Why don’t you make us some hot chocolate while I go and check on my alleged little gatecrasher? And, for the record, I thought the cake was marvellous.’

Beginning to panic, the gatecrasher in question pushed and pushed and PUSHED on the door, but it just wouldn’t budge.

‘I’m telling you, Mama,’ Aggy wailed, ‘the prince definitely said her name!’

‘Then I’ll be popping in to say goodnight to an empty bed,’ her father replied. ‘Don’t be so silly, Agnes.’

At that second, Cinders’s door flew open and she hurled herself under the covers just in time for her father to poke his head into her room.

‘There’s my little princess,’ he said softly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘I knew it. Thank goodness you weren’t there this evening. What an absolute palaver.

What a palaver indeed, Cinders thought as she rolled over with a smile on her face. Still holding her mother’s shoe, she fell fast asleep to dreams of brownies and horse-mice and a night full to the brim with adventure.

Back at the palace, Prince Joderick wasn’t having nearly as nice a night as Cinders.

‘It’s a disgrace!’ the king shouted, striding up and down the throne room.

‘A disgrace,’ agreed the queen.

‘You’ve made a mockery of the crown!’ the king bellowed.

‘A mockery,’ the queen echoed.

‘The whole kingdom must be wondering what is wrong with you!’ the king cried.

‘The whole kingdom,’ the queen sighed.

‘If I might interrupt for just a sec,’ Joderick interrupted. ‘The thing is I really didn’t want to dance with anyone at the ball. They all just seemed a bit …’ He paused and considered his mother’s pink ruffled gown and enormous white wig. ‘They weren’t for me.’

‘I really don’t care,’ the king replied. ‘If you don’t choose someone to marry by midsummer’s eve, you’ll have to marry the Princess of Fairyland and then where will we be?’

‘Where will we be?’ the queen repeated.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Joderick sat down slowly, scratching his head. ‘I’ll have to marry who?’

The king took to his throne and removed his crown, turning it round in his hands and inspecting the diamonds and rubies set within.

‘Long ago, we were at war with the fairies and there was no way we could win,’ he explained. ‘They have terrible powers, my son – what wicked little things they are. All claws and teeth and spindly legs, obsessed with cakes and shiny things, and always using magic against us. But your clever great-great-grandfather made a pact with the King of Fairyland to get rid of them once and for all.’

Joderick’s eyes opened wide. Since he was a boy, his nannies and mannies had told him stories of the fairies, but he just thought they were making them up. He’d never seen a fairy and truly believed they didn’t exist. In the stories he’d been told, fairies were tricksy, deceitful creatures. Legend said some of them could fly, some of them could disappear and some of them had even been known to eat people. It was enough to make him long for a bowl of Brussels sprouts.

‘Fairies are real?’ Joderick asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

‘I’m afraid so,’ the king confirmed. ‘They agreed our lands could live in harmony provided the firstborn son of every king in this realm would marry a fairy of their choosing on midsummer’s eve. Once the pact was made, the fairies were forbidden to cross beyond the Dark Mountains and, after a while, everyone in our kingdom forgot they were there.’

‘But you’re not married to a fairy,’ Joderick pointed out. ‘And I’m fairly certain you’re the first son of the first son of the first son of your great-grandfather.’

‘Actually, I’m the first son of the first son of the second son,’ said the king. ‘My grandfather was a second son. His older brother married a fairy and was never seen again.’

Joderick scratched his head, frowning, trying to figure out the family tree.

‘Which is why you need to choose someone from this kingdom and you need to do it now,’ his father insisted. ‘There is a way out – as my own father discovered. If you’re already married before midsummer’s eve, then you don’t have to marry one of those tricksy fairies.’

‘Oh, can you imagine?’ The queen pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘What if one of them were to come and live in the palace? Or, even worse, you had to go and live in Fairyland?’

‘And that’s what would happen,’ the king confirmed as the queen began to sob. ‘As it did to my grandfather’s brother, and his uncle before him. You would have to leave the kingdom and never, ever come back. You’d spend the rest of your life in the dark, dangerous place beyond the mountains and, let me tell you, no amount of horse riding could prepare you for a thing like that. It might not sound like it but Fairyland is a fearsome place, my son, and I won’t let them take you away.’

Joderick straightened his crown with a gulp. ‘When you put it like that, I suppose we’d better find me someone to marry.’Clapping his hands together, the king leaped to his feet and two pages appeared instantly, carrying a very, very, very long scroll. And a laptop.

‘This is a list of every eligible person who attended the ball,’ explained the king, logging on to the computer. ‘I’ve got their names and addresses and, on the scroll there, a humorous caricature, which, I must admit, was my idea.’ He chuckled. ‘Some of these are very good. Those ears!’ He coughed. ‘Um. Anyway, my son, tell me. Who caught your eye this evening?’

The prince thought long and hard. He had met so many people that it was hard to remember them all. But there was one who had immediately sprung to mind.

‘I didn’t find out her last name,’ Joderick said slowly, ‘but I did meet a girl underneath the salad station.’

‘Oh, the scandal,’ the king gasped as the queen fainted.

‘Her name was Cinders,’ Joderick added, pulling a glass slipper out of his rather large pocket. ‘She left this behind when she disappeared. She was really funny and she liked my baking. I wouldn’t mind marrying her.’

‘I really don’t care!’ the king whooped, and he waved to the pages who immediately began scanning the scroll for a Cinders. ‘As long as you’re married by midsummer’s eve and she’s not a fairy, she’s all right by me.’

The prince looked on as his father scooped his mother up in his arms and began to dance her all round the throne room.

By this time tomorrow, Joderick would be engaged and the entire kingdom would rejoice.

So why wasn’t he feeling happier about the whole situation?

‘Joderick, my son.’ The king was exasperated. ‘Are you quite sure of the name?’

‘Cinders.’ Joderick nodded. ‘Short for Cinderella.’

The king, the prince, their royal guard, three dozen pages and a hundred and one soldiers had been searching the length and breadth of the kingdom for three long days, and so far they’d found nothing.

They were riding through a clearing, Joderick on a pony and his father on a magnificent charger. Beautiful sunlight dappled the forest floor, yet there was nothing sunny about the king’s expression.

‘But there isn’t a single person in the land called Cinders or Cinderella and, according to our records, there never has been,’ the king said with a sigh. ‘Every single baby born within my realm is required to be presented to the royal family and added to the register to stop any of those fanciful fairies from sneaking across our borders uninvited.’

The horses stopped, and the king swung himself down from the saddle, kicking at a tussock in frustration.

‘She definitely wasn’t a fairy,’ Joderick argued. ‘She didn’t have wings, sharp fangs or creepy claws. She was a real human girl.’

‘Then why haven’t we found her?’ the king said as his horse wandered off the track to drink at a stream. ‘And what kind of person loses a shoe? I’m starting to think you’re making this girl up. It’s almost as if you want to marry one of those terrible fairies.’

Through the trees, Joderick spotted a thin stream of smoke coming from a pink brick chimney.

He remembered what Cinders had said. ‘My pink cottage in the forest …’

‘This way!’ Joderick called, pulling his pony round and charging off through the trees. ‘I think I know where she is!’

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