Now that the crown prince had returned home with a possible bride, it was all anyone could talk about. Pip refused to take part in any of the gossip and speculation, still feeling ashamed of how easily he'd been taken in. It was almost impossible to avoid the topic though, as the royal heralds made daily announcements about how well the prince was settling back into palace life, and introducing his guest to all that the Kingdom of Lindsensea had to offer.

It wasn't long before news was broadcast that there was to be a great spectacle one evening in the main courtyard to entertain the visiting princess. It would end with a fireworks display, and once again, palace staff were given permission to attend.

Pip found himself looking forward to it. He didn't want to see the prince, in fact that would be embarrassing – or so he told himself. But he had heard that the Amazing Sasha was to give a riding display, and he longed to see her perform again. No doubt she had an entirely new routine by now, and if he couldn't talk to her, he could at least have a note sent, telling her how much her performance had meant to a little boy from the country who loved horses.

''And you can see it all too, Gilbert," Pip told his mouse friend. ''You can sit in my shirt pocket, and there'll be lots of dancers, and singers, and riders, and acrobats. You're going to love it, Gilbert."

But when the evening of the entertainment arrived, Mr Smedley told Pip that he hadn't polished the silver correctly, and as punishment, he would have to do it all over again, as well as clean out the kitchen cupboards and scrub the floor.

''But Mr Smedley, couldn't I do it tomorrow night? I'll miss the entertainment," Pip pleaded.

''That's part of your punishment," said Mr Smedley. ''You cannot put your punishment off for a day that suits you. The kitchens are not run at your convenience, Pip."

So when the time came, Pip watched the rest of the staff leave for the courtyard, chattering excitedly under the watchful gaze of Mr Smedley and Madame Fontaine. His eyes filled with tears at missing out on one of the few opportunities for fun that staff were allowed, and the worst part was, he hadn't even cleaned the silver. He had swapped jobs with Freddy, but as that was strictly forbidden, telling Mr Smedley that would have only got him into worse trouble.

He listlessly got out the silver polish and cleaning cloths, but within a few minutes he was crying so hard he couldn't see what he was doing. Suddenly everything weighed upon his heart too heavily – this little disappointment became magnified by all that he had suffered, including the devastating realisation that he'd wasted years of his life longing for a man who turned out to be an unattainable prince, and who had doubtless never given him another thought. It felt as if he was inside one of Mr Robert Black's poems about endless tears, awash in an ocean of pain, drowning in sorrow.

"Hey, cut out the waterworks, yeah?" said a voice near him. It was a peculiarly flat voice, unmistakably one from the back streets of Camden.

"Who's there?" Pip called out, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Show yourself, and do not hide in the darkness like a knave."

"Bloody drama queen," muttered the voice, but the person stepped forward so Pip could see them.

He appeared to be a young man, very tall and thin. He had a handsome, cynical face with dark eyes that looked centuries old, as if he had seen many kingdoms rise and fall in his time. He was dressed in a white silk robe covered with a dark red cloak, and had a pointed green hat on his head, with long curly black hair showing beneath it. His shoes were red to match his cloak, and they had curly toes. 

He looked as if he had come from the farthest reaches of the Persian Empire, yet he spoke like a Camden guttersnipe, in phrases so strange to Pip's ears he could not guess from whence they came.

"Who ... who are you?" Pip gasped. "And what are you?"

"Name's Zarvic," said the strange figure laconically. "I'm a magician. Your magician godfather, as it happens."

"My godfather?" said Pip in disbelief. "You barely look older than me."

"Take care of myself, don't I?" Zarvic said nonchalantly.

"And why do I have a magician godfather? Which one of my parents belonged to the Temple of Magic?" Pip demanded.

"Neither of them," said Zarvic. "It was your guardian, Eugenia."

"I don't know anyone called Eugenia," Pip said, thinking this must be a case of mistaken identity.

"Eugenia, Genie, whatever," Zarvic said with a touch of impatience.

"Jeannie ... You mean Granny Bennett?"

"I don't know what name she might have used with you," said Zarvic wearily. "Little old woman, wrinkly brown face like a walnut, clever black eyes? Pictish accent, wore tartan, baked pies, yeah? Ring any bells?"

Pip nodded.

"Well, it was Genie who brought you into the world, yeah? And when you were born, she cast a charmed circle, summoning me by the sacred elements of Earth, Wind, and Fire, and laid upon me the burden of taking care of you should her guardianship ever fail."

"Granny was a magician?" gasped Pip.

"Witch," corrected Zarvic. "You never figured it out? Healing arts, gathering herbs and mushrooms before the sun's rays hit them, planting the garden by the phases of the moon, muttering charms to make the bread rise, weather working, reading the stars?"

"I thought those were just country ways," said Pip defensively. "And if you were meant to take care of me, why didn't you? Granny died years ago, and I was alone in the world before I turned eleven."

"I had things on," said Zarvic airily. "And I checked up on you, and you lived in a palace. Figured you were doing alright."

"I work at the palace!" Pip said angrily. "I slept in the kitchen and got paid a few coppers a year!"

"Nice secure job," suggested Zarvic. "Roof over your head, warm in winter, plenty of food in a kitchen. There's kids on the streets of Camden doing much, much worse."

"Well, why have you come now, then?" snapped Pip. "Since my life is such a pleasure to lead."

"Heard you crying," Zarvic said. "Thought something might be wrong."

"I've cried hundreds of times since Granny died!" said Pip. "I've cried getting beaten, and burnt, and getting ash in my eyes, and dropping heavy things on my foot, and being sad, and all sorts of reasons."

"Not like this," said Zarvic. "You were proper sobbing your eyes out. Weren't just a little sniffle, or a bit of a weep. So what's wrong?"

Zarvic didn't seem like the sympathetic type, but suddenly Pip was tired of keeping everything inside. He told his godfather everything – and not just about having to miss the entertainment for someone else's poor workmanship, and wanting to see Sasha ride.

He talked about how he had had the opportunity of buying an apprenticeship snatched away from him and been forced into working in the kitchens. How much he longed for his mother and granny, and his friend Finn. How Granny Bennett had told him he had to keep himself for his true love, and how lonely, frustrated, and aching he was as a result.

He even told Zarvic about Rue, and how he had turned out to be the prince of the kingdom, and was marrying a Russian princess. Zarvic listened to everything impassively, and didn't interrupt once.

"And I suppose .... I suppose it all got too much for me," Pip finished, rather lamely.

"So, you've got a bit of a thing for the prince, then?" asked Zarvic.

"No, I made a fool of myself over the prince, and now I never want to see him again," Pip answered.

"Well, I can't bring dead people back to life, and you're too big for your pony now anyway, and taking on lawyers is something that could go on for years and years, and we might still lose," said Zarvic. "But if you've got a crush on a prince, and you're lonely, and desperate for a bit of action ... that, I can probably help with."

"Really? Out of all my problems, that's the one you concentrate on?" said Pip, giving his magician godfather a bit of a glare.

"It's achievable," said Zarvic, spreading his hands. "We have to be practical about things. I can get you into the entertainment in the courtyard, easy. I can make it so that the prince notices you, easy. After that, it's up to you, and maybe a bit of luck."

"Is the prince ... is he my true love?" Pip asked, trying not to sound eager, and failing.

"No idea," Zarvic said carelessly. "But you've got more chance of finding out if you go and meet him, rather than sit alone in a kitchen crying over him."

"Unbelievable," said Pip, shaking his head.

"Take it or leave it," shrugged Zarvic. "Refuse my help, and you will never see or hear from me again. It's your choice."

"Alright, then," said Pip abruptly. "If that's all you can do, then do it. At least I'll have one night to remember for the rest of my miserable life."

"That's the spirit," Zarvic deadpanned. "Alright, I'm going to use a potion that will transform you into someone the prince will find irresistible. You will become his perfect romantic and erotic fantasy."

He reached into the pocket of his robes, and took out a little purple bottle, marked Fantasy Come to Life in strange, squiggly writing.

"Drink this," Zarvic ordered, holding out the bottle.

Pip took off the lid and sniffed it warily. It smelled sweet and intoxicating, so he tipped the contents of the bottle down his throat. There was a bright swirl of light around him and he had a sudden impulse to spin around very quickly, so he turned on his heel three times.

Dizzily, he looked down at himself. His kitchen uniform was gone, and in its place he wore a white lace dress, the bodice covered in glittering sequins. The dress was held up by satin straps, and the skirt was extremely short, but had many layers of tulle in the petticoat, so that it stood out stiffly. He wore white silk stockings under the dress, and a pair of white satin lace-up ankle boots with diamonds covering the high heels.

He could feel something was in his hair, and when he looked in the mirror over the wash basin in the corner, he saw it was a hair band sewn over with tiny white rosebuds. His shoulder length hair was raven black now, and looked as if it had been carefully cut and set into an arrangement that would have taken hours to achieve in real life, but which suggested that he had only just got out of bed, and lazily wiped a hand through his luxurious locks. His face was elaborately painted, his eyes in particular looking stunning, with dark smudges of kohl around them.

"I look exactly the same!" Pip said indignantly.

"Oh really?" said Zarvic, with dangerous casualness. "You were crying in a kitchen dressed in a white lace dress and diamond-encrusted boots, your face covered in paint, and your hair dyed black, were you?"

"I don't mean that. I mean that my face and body haven't actually changed at all," said Pip. "I mean, I haven't even got breasts." He gestured at his chest.

"Oh, I dunno," Zarvic said. "Some people like them small and perky."

"Surely the prince's fantasy is a beautiful girl?"

"Apparently not," said Zarvic with a little smirk, looking Pip up and down.

"And if he likes men, why I am wearing a dress?" Pip wanted to know.

"Seems as if the prince's fantasy is a skinny big-nosed boy in a frock," grinned Zarvic.

"Surely you jest," said Pip in vexation. "I haven't become tall and handsome, or petite and pretty, or changed in any way. I can't believe the prince's fantasy is me in a little dress and boots with my hair dyed! You must have done something wrong."

"Don't you ever insult my magical abilities," said Zarvic with a face like thunder. "If this is what you look like after drinking the potion, then that's how you're supposed to look."

"I'm sorry for insulting you," Pip said after a moment. "It's just ... not what I was expecting."

"It's actually perfect, because now I can easily get you into the courtyard as one of the entertainers," Zarvic said.

"What about all the work I'm meant to do?" Pip protested.

Zarvic looked around, clicked his fingers, and the kitchen was so clean and sparkling it was barely recognisable. A pile of glittering silver shone on the table.

"You can ride a horse, right?" Zarvic said. "You need a horse. Ah, there's one."

He bent down, and scooped Pip's mouse friend Gilbert off the floor. Gilbert squeaked in fear as Zarvic held him.

This was so ridiculous that Pip didn't even say anything. He was beginning to think the whole thing was an insane practical joke.

"Let's go outside," Zarvic ordered, leading Pip through the door onto the main lawn.

Zarvic put Gilbert on the grass, spoke a few words over him, and a very surprised mouse instantly became a stunning white Arabian horse.

Pip stared in shock (he didn't rub his eyes, because that would have made a mess of his painted face). He'd changed his mind. This wasn't a practical joke – Zarvic had drugged him, and now he was hallucinating.

"Mount your horse, my lady," said Zarvic, with a sarcastic flourish.

"I'm not a lady," Pip objected.

"That's alright. This ain't no horse, neither," Zarvic replied with a wicked smile.