The queen, rising from her throne, began to explain that there were only twelve golden plates for feasting.
“That is why you weren’t invited, dear, good fairy,” she said to the witch. “Please take away your curse.”
“For shame!” cried the witch. “I’ll make it worse!
She shall live to age fifteen,
But she shall never be a queen.
While spinning she shall prick her hand.
There’ll be no cure in all the land.”
“Have pity! Have pity!” cried the poor queen, wringing her hands and sobbing so realistically that Judy almost cried with her.
“I will have every spinning wheel destroyed,” the king declared. “This cruel pronouncement must not come to pass.”
“Can’t you help us, dear fairies?” sobbed the queen.