They drooped like wilted flowers. “I’m afraid not,” one after another of them replied. “She is not one of us. She is a witch. Her powers are greater than ours, but we will try.”
At that they began dancing around the witch, trying to touch her with their wands. The music played wildly as the witch whirled and danced, always eluding them and finally dancing off the set.
“She’s gone!” exclaimed the king. “She’s left her curse on all of us.”
“You good fairies, is there nothing you can do?” The queen turned to the dancers with a pleading gesture. Eleven of them shook their heads. Irene, the twelfth fairy, danced into the spotlight and began to sing:
“A twelfth gift I have yet to give.
The princess shall not die, but live.
A fairy mist will change the spell
From death to sleep. She shall sleep well
A hundred years. Yes, all shall sleep.
Change, curse, from death to slumber deep!”