When Sir Frederic threw a party, he really threw a party. That is, so long as someone else was paying for it. For the royal reunion festivities, the fortress was decked out in so much finery that a mystical Avalon appeared out of a parking lot for rocks. Fires warmed every room and hall; a million lit candles mingled to glow, unmeasured, and unhindered. The great banquet hall dripped in new blooms, in old tapestries, with flowing wine, and tables spilling over with food. It also dripped with drips like the nobility balking at being seated next to Fredericton's most upstanding commoners. But for such a happy occasion, they soon got over themselves.

King Victor and Queen Betina sat centre of the raised king's table, flanked by Prince Richard and his wife Marguerite. The rest of the princes and their partners were sat at the two royal tables in order of line to the throne, with the exception of Edward who sat lower because his wife Ondine was prone to vertigo. Behind them, stalwart guards stood along the wall like carved columns while other off-duty soldiers had the luck of attending simply as honoured guests.

Sir Frederic had hired servants from the village to see to everyone's needs. They made him pay them up front, and he did it gladly. He conducted the flow from the kitchen to the tables and back like a giddy maestro. It had been a long time since he'd indulged in a glass of anything more grape than prune juice. Let's just say his wine cellar didn't know what hit it.

The kitchen also had never seen such activity. A lot of plucking and peeling and scaling and straining went into feeding over a hundred guests, and thanks to Fred hiring help for the cook too, we're not talking about the man's nervous breakdown. He oversaw his culinary opus with the sharp eyes of a master builder. No pot went unused, no ingredients were substituted. There was an excess of gravy and no succulent roasted thing which needed it. It must have been agony for Rupret, sniffing all that deliciousness down in his lair, especially if beyond the surf and turf he could smell the giant cake being baked using Danny's family recipe.

As for the princesses, they were dressed and de-stressed, but abuzz with nervous excitement. They took turns peeking around the corner from the hall where they were preparing to perform a small song and dance as a means of entertainment and introduction. They peered hopefully at the couples who would claim them, making best guesses about their parents based on physical appearance, but it was still impossible to know. For example, the tallest pair sitting head and shoulders above the others might not have been Rosalind's parents. They were, but for all she knew, their legs might have been short behind the table cloth.

Lena passed a sheet with lyric changes to one of the performing musicians nearest to their rehearsal spot. She didn't recognize him in his costume as one of the dancers from the barn, and she certainly didn't know him as one of Robert's soldiers. All the soldiers mimed playing their instruments while Ivan, from his band leader's stand, worked his magic to convince everyone of the dining music they were producing, even though the sliding part of Robert's horn slid clean off during a solo.

For his part, the traitor had finally stopped grimacing beneath his oversized velveteen musician's beret. All of his hard work, all of his scheming had finally delivered him to this moment of triumph. His surprise attack was mere moments away, and victory was within his rotten reach while he was still relatively young enough to enjoy it. He had only to wait now for revellers to become full and drunk enough to let their guards down, and for the girls to sing their song, and for Ivan to do the voodoo he did so well. Then no one could stop him.

*****

Outside the fortress, Francis dug a fish hook into a groove between the rocks inside the lie-detecting hole in the wall, then let the line fall and pool to the ground.

"What's that for?" Danny asked.

"So we can climb up after we shrink."

"You mean if we don't explode or disintegrate?"

Francis tugged on the line a few times, and when he was sure he would hold, he took his vial of potion out from his pocket and urged Danny to do the same.

"Ready?"he asked.

"How about you go first? If you dissolve or something, we're going to need plan B."

"What's your plan B?"

"I was thinking I could maybe get Rupret's attention. He wouldn't have to leave the castle to eat anybody."

"Maybe you're right, but if the kingdom's at stake, I think you should drink first."

"Oh no. It was my idea. Besides, Rupret likes me better. I'm onions, remember?"

"All right, fine. We don't have time to argue." He uncorked his potion and with a "here goes!", he swallowed the whole thing in one gulp.

Suddenly, Francis was gone, leaving only a white poof of smoke dissipating where he'd once been.

"Oh, I knew it," Danny fretted. "It was too potent. He's vanished."

The shrill whistle of a real grass kazoo rose from below and got Danny to look down. There Francis stood, all of four inches tall. He dropped his blades of grass to wave for Danny's attention.

"Down here! he yelled.

"HA! You're so cute!" Danny chuckled.

"Hurry up!" shouted Francis.

Danny popped his vial's cork and sniffed the potion. "Hope this isn't fattening," he said and downed it quickly.

The world was briefly a blur as he shrunk to Francis' size. They wasted no time in trying to shimmy up the fishing line, but Danny made the mistake of looking down at the moat below.

"Gee, I hope nothing in there jumps," he said.

"We're too far away from the edge," Francis said. "And if you fell, you'd sooner break your neck than fall into the water."

"Imagine dying from a one foot drop?"

The climb was harder than it looked. When Francis made it to the entrance of the wall's opening, he had to get on his stomach to reach for Danny and pull him the rest of the way.

"Thanks, pal. My hands were starting to burn."

Francis unhooked the hook, this time with considerably more difficulty, and began winding up the line.

"Sort of reminds me of this one time my uncle and I went fishing and this behemoth dragged us halfway across the lake. We finally reel it in, both hands feeling like they were on fire, and we pull out the strangest looking fish you ever saw. My uncle says to me, 'Boy, don't you know that's a magic wishing fish! If you promise to throw it back, it'll grant you a wish.'"

Francis seized Danny and covered his mouth. "You idiot. You know what happens if you tell a lie in here?"

Danny tapped Francis' hand away and brushed himself off. "I'll have you know it's the honest-to-God truth. I didn't say I got my wish because I didn't."

"Because it wasn't a wishing fish."

"Who knows? I think it just didn't believe I was going to throw it back."

"A life littered with missed opportunities. What did you wish for?"

"Tartar sauce. Anyway, I guess the moral is don't go climbing or fishing without gloves on."

"Thank you, Aesop."

"After you."

Danny stepped aside to let Francis lead them through the small hall of stone. At the other end of it, Francis used all his strength to slam the hook into a crevice so they could use the line to climb down. Carefully, he went over the side first. Danny was about to follow when he turned to stare back down the hole and said, "Just this once, I gotta know." He cupped his mouth and hollered, "I was absolutely going to throw that fish back."

SHHHINK!

A sharpened curve of a knapped stone dropped down so violently it surely would have chopped off a liar's limb. Danny jumped back and used the line to rappel down the wall quickly, nearly overtaking Francis. They dashed across the small courtyard, and by 'dashed' I mean ran begging their muscles for mercy and wondering if they'd ever make it. The fortress doors did not open on their own for them as they'd once done, but fortunately Francis and Danny were able to roll under them. The rolling was a nice break from all the climbing and running.

They crept along the entranceway, keeping close to the walls as they ventured further into the main hall. What a difference from only the day before! The fortress was swarming with courtiers presenting the brave soldiers an obstacle course of swirling skirts and kicking boots, of dragging capes and crushing heels.

"Now what?" Danny asked breathlessly.

"I'll go and warn the king, and you go and try to warn the girls. Just as soon as we return to normal size. Which I'm sure will be any second now."

"Say, when the witch said this stuff wouldn't last long, neither of us asked how long it would, did we?"

"No, but I'm sure it will be any minute now," Francis said unsurely.

"Isn't great how it only lasted as long as we needed it to?"Danny said. After another minute passed, he asked, "Is it me, or is it taking a while?"

"We don't have time for this," Francis hissed, seeming to lose all of his cool at once. He didn't have that much to spare even before he started jumping up and down like a spoiled brat.

"Calm down. What are you doing?"

"Trying to grow up," Francis said with another leap. With each jump, he tried to stretch himself out as if he could lengthen by straining his neck away from his shoulders.

"You're gonna pull something," Danny said. A mouse poking its head out of a nearby crack looked embarrassed for him.

With another bounce, Francis pulled away from the safety of the wall. With another, he stumbled into the pathway of a pair of swiftly moving shoes and was nearly trampled before being spun out further into oncoming foot traffic.

"Look out!" Danny yelled. He raced out to save him but froze facing an oncoming pointy toe.

Francis grabbed Danny and together they hurdled over the fur hem of a coat train to get back against the wall where they soon realized they were gripping, each other's sleeves.

"We almost got squished like bugs!" Danny said.

"Imagine the cobbler's face when we popped back up to normal size!" said Francis. He started to laugh, but the sight of a giant Sir Frederic and Lady Winifred rushing towards them stopped him.

"Danny! Here come Fred and Lady Winnie. I'll bet he's going to fawn over Victor and Winnie's heading for the girls. We've got to hitch a ride. Come on, let's go."

"Hitch a ride? Are you nuts? How?"

"Just jump, grab what you can, and hang on tight. Get ready!"

On the count of three, Francis charged at Fred's shoe like it was a runaway wagon. Danny managed to grab one of Winnie's laces, but was dragged along until he could figure out the timing of her lady-like footsteps and hurl himself on top of her foot just as the ball of it hit the floor.

"Hang on!" Francis called out.

"To what?" Danny asked, feeling himself slipping. "It isn't proper to touch a strange woman's ankle."

"Would you rather kiss Robert's boots?"

"All right, but if I get punted..."

Danny managed to climb Lady Winifred's laces like a rope ladder and cling on to the top of the tongue.

In a moment, Fred and Winnie, having agreed on something related to the night's menu or program, entered the banquet hall and parted ways. Frederic did indeed make his way to Victor's table. Francis climbed his stockinged leg to where he could reach the table cloth, then pulled himself up to the table top while Fred and the King exchanged words.

"Is everything to your liking, Sire?"

"Fred, we're cousins! No need for formalities, especially after your years of sacrifice. Come! Stop this running around and sit. Try some of these delicious ribs."

"Ribs? As in plural?"

Victor gave him a swat on the back and laughed heartily. "First bone cleaned is a toothpick."

*****

Winnie did not go directly to the princesses but instead stopped to give some kind of instruction to a group of dusty boots. When Danny looked up, he recognized the outfits of the musicians and then the scrawny menace that was Ivan, graciously lowering his yellow eyes and bowing his head to accept sheet music.

There was a change of plan.

Danny jumped from Winnie's foot to Ivan's, climbing his legs to his coattails and upwards.

"You dirty cheat," he muttered along the way. "You snivelly sneak. Picking on poor defenceless girls. I'll show you . I'll probably die doing it, maybe even at the hands of one of those defenceless girls, but I'll show you."

Danny was up to Ivan's shoulder when the magician lifted his head from the sheet music and began looking around.

"Ivan, what is it?" Robert asked. He wasn't even pretending his horn's mouthpiece was anywhere near his mouth.

"I sense...magic. Something potent. Subtle though, and that's concerning."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck are sticking up."

Having slipped off the slope of Ivan's shoulder pad, Danny pulled himself up with one of Ivan's neck hairs until he was safely stowed away in his collar.

*****

Francis considered sprinting across plates to get the king's attention, but he knew the commotion might tip Ivan off before he could relay his message. He needed a way to reach Victor alone, so he hid himself in his napkin. After too long next to spots of gravy and lardy crumbs, Francis realized that the King was done eating. That's when he saw the pepper nearby on the table and ran out and kicked it over. Once the irritating plume hit the royal nostril, Francis found himself being lifted to Victor's nose as he made ready to sneeze. The word 'devotion' doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Your majesty!" Francis yelled and waved from the king's hand.

Victor nearly dropped the napkin before tightening his grip. He unfolded it slowly, gently, hoping he hadn't hurt whatever was inside. Francis was fine, but those grease stains were there for good.

The king's fair brow knit together. "Good heavens. Are you my conscience, cricket?"

"I am Your Majesty's loyal soldier. I must warn you that the band's conductor is none other than Ivan the wicked magician."

"I know you. It's...Francis, isn't it? What's happened to you?"

"Robert is here, Sire!"

"Speak up, man. I can't hear anything you're saying."

At this point, Queen Betina was deeply concerned to see her husband staring at the contents of his tissue with such curious interest.

"Dear? What on earth has got your attention in there?"

He brought his cupped hand to his wife's face. She jumped at seeing Francis, mistaking him for a bug. She grabbed the napkin and flung it from her husband's hands. Francis naturally went with it.

"Betina! That was one of my better men."

Victor searched the table for Francis and found him on a tray of food with his foot stuck in an olive.

"Francis, what the blazes is going on?"

Francis had no choice but to hold up his arms like a child would to urge the king pick him up. He only wanted to be carried closer to his ear, but he humiliated himself for nothing. A horn of announcement blew and silenced the dining room, and all eyes turned to the musician pit and to Ivan in disguise.

With a crooked smile and polished air, he held up his baton for the hall's attention. No guests were more rapt than the twelve royal couples.

"Your Majesties, please forgive the interruption, but we have twelve talented young ladies here tonight, eager to make your acquaintance. As you're aware, sometime in the earliest days of their safeguarding, their given names got a little mixed up. Tonight, they hope to help you decide who's who by way of a little entertainment."

The band's pretend playing trickled into a soft melody, and as Ivan sang the slow introduction, the princess floated into the room to form the loveliest lineup the front of a packed house has ever seen. The music picked up, and the girls sang playful lyrics they'd written to describe what they were like and what they were good at, hoping their parents might recognize a family trait. In truth, as they sang about being good at baseball or knitting or telling jokes or keeping secrets, it was obvious to Tibalt the Timid that Judy had her mother's voice. Andrew the Able could spot his own hairline on Katherine from all the way in the back, and Edward and Ondine gasped - for very different reasons- at just how much Lucy looked like her red-headed maternal grandmother, Eunice. Where there were less clear physical resemblances and still some doubts, there was also the feeling of having all the time in the world to figure things out and become families again.

As the princesses finished their song, applause filled the hall with cheers of joy. Not one unsmiling face or dry eye beheld the princesses now about to be reunited with their goodly, grateful king and his siblings.

The band struck up music again as the ladies walked to the back of the hall, accepting well-wishes graciously from the tables they passed. Ivan's voice once again filled the room.

"Nobility, gentry, Highnesses

Presenting your twelve princesses

Exemplary in their womanhood

Because good girls do as good girls should."

If Francis had been taller, he would've seen the expressions on the girls' happy faces dissolve into something resembling controlled rage. Hearing Ivan's magic words, he could only assume what was happening. Danny, meanwhile, had by now made his way up under Ivan's hat and peeked out from it to see the ladies now smiling dangerous, deceptive smiles. It was a chilling sight. They swayed to the music, paying respect to the king's soldiers, flirtatiously relieving them of their weapons so that everyone laughed.

"Oh boy," Danny said to himself. "Listen to these poor ignorant dopes. 'Aren't girls with swords cute?' They're gonna cut you up into a million cute little pieces. They're gonna jitterbug all over your leftovers."

Suddenly, Danny felt himself start to bloat. He thought at first it was just nervous gas, but then in an aggressive, unpleasant instant, his hands, feet, and the rest of him returned to normal size. Ivan was crushed under his weight as they collapsed to the ground together. Once he managed to tear off the hat Danny had pulled down and wedged over his furious, glowing eyes, he sat up like the hypnotic snake he was and yelled, "ATTACK!"

The princesses assumed fighting stances on his command, turning on the king's men with their own weapons.

Francis, too, suddenly inflated to his full size, nearly causing the king's table to crash beneath him.

"Francis, what is going on?" Victor demanded.

It was then that the king turned to see his brother, Robert the Rotten, cast off his disguise and draw his sword.