The princess stood behind the old witch, not saying a word until she turned her head. Then, appearing frightened, she said, “Good day, my good lady, what are you doing here?”
“I am spinning,” said the witch, nodding her head.
“What thing is that which twists round so merrily?”
“It is a spindle. Want to try it, my pretty?”
It was the same evil voice Judy had heard back in the dressing room.
“I—I’m afraid.”
The princess did sound afraid as she took the spindle. Her long golden hair fell almost to her waist. Were those real tears in her eyes when she pricked her finger? She fell, almost immediately, in an undramatic pose with her face turned away from the audience. The witch, chuckling softly to herself, began to chant:
“My curse is done. The sleep of death
Shall take away the princess’ breath!”
Judy drew a breath of her own that was almost a gasp. She knew the old fairy story by heart, and yet there was a moment when the play seemed so real that she wasn’t at all sure the curse wouldn’t come true.