DECEIVED

The sweet, loving princesses, all of them pregnant, made their way through the forest as best they could. Aurora, Snow White, and Cinderella were searching for the cabin where—if the information provided by the handsomely bribed forester was correct—they would find Prince Charming in the act of consummating his treachery. For Snow White, more than for the other two, the forest evoked painful memories, but all of them were determined to unmask the scoundrel at any cost. At last, as night was falling, they found the cabin and, after catching their breath, knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, as if they had been expected, they heard hurried, confused movements inside. Someone was hiding. But the women were not intimidated. They knew that cabins in fairy-tale forests have only one door. Knock knock, they insisted.

“We know you’re in there,” said Snow White firmly. “Stop hiding and show yourself, you rogue.”

“Don’t be a coward,” Aurora chimed in. “You’ve been found out anyway.”

From inside the cabin came more signs of frantic, aimless activity, as if someone were dragging furniture back and forth.

“Are you opening the door, or do we knock it down?” said Cinderella, who, after all she had endured with her stepmother and stepsisters, was not about to be intimidated by one Prince Charming or another.

“I’m opening it,” said a hoarse, agitated voice from inside. “I’m opening it.” Footsteps approached the door, and the turning of the handle proved the speaker wasn’t lying. The door opened, revealing a Prince Charming somewhat out of sorts, in his shirt, with the buttons of his breeches poorly fastened. He bore little resemblance to the elegant young man who had managed to seduce them. Behind him, the modest cabin—clearly unworthy of a Prince Charming—was dirty and in disarray.

“Thief, miserable wretch!” Snow White exploded, not giving the Prince a chance to mount a defense.

“Vile worm, despicable scoundrel, disgusting toad!” added Cinderella, doubling the barrage, just in case.

“Rascal, contemptible trash, good-for-nothing,” Aurora tripled it, mostly so as not to be left behind.

“My beloved wives!” Prince Charming babbled.

“So you admit it?” croaked Snow White, at the height of righteous indignation.

“Won’t you even offer an excuse, a lie?” whimpered Aurora, who had begun to feel contractions.

“And who is she?” snapped Cinderella, red as a tomato.

“Admit it, excuses, lies, she?” said the Prince, who had never been known for eloquence and whose greatest talent was repeating his interlocutor’s words.

“If you’re not going to lie,” Snow White said in her sternest tone, “tell us immediately what this triple life means, why you deceived us by taking advantage of our maidenly innocence, and who the lady is that you hid with such a commotion.”

“I can explain everything,” the Prince stammered, trying to placate the women with a bit of humor, but seeing their grim frowns, he spread his arms and said, “what happened with you three…”

“Say it already,” said Cinderella. “Can’t you see she’s about to break her water?”

“About to what?” Prince Charming scratched his head.

“Forget that now,” said Aurora. “I want to know before I start giving birth.”

“Very well, since you’re asking so insistently…” The Prince put his fingers to his lips and whistled like a common carter.

The movements inside the cabin resolved into creaks and cracks. A large figure—impossible to imagine as a maiden—approached the door.

“What we have is true love, birdbrains,” said Pinocchio, displaying the full splendor of his wooden body. He stepped toward the women and, shoving Prince Charming aside without ceremony, looked at Snow White, Aurora, and Cinderella with contempt, arrogant and ostentatious as ever. “You are incapable of understanding what the two of us feel for each other.”