“…and the final item is this hand-crafted, fused-silica glass measuring jug,” says the auctioneer, holding it up for show. “Formerly owned by the recently deceased Snow White and auctioned on behalf of the executives of her estate, the Seven Dwarfs. This jug has a one cup capacity, with gradients of one-quarter one half, and three-quarter increments embossed in gold on the side. A rarity of its kind, this jug will be sold with its original magical properties certificate. Ladies and gentlemen, do I have an opening bid?”
“How do we know the magic works?” Ugly Stepsister One asks.
“Of course it works,” says Grumpy from the side of the crowded auditorium. He steps forward and tosses a sugar cube into the jug.
“I need one cup of sugar,” he says to the jug. With a puff of magic, the sugar crystals multiply, filling the jug until it reaches the one cup mark. Crossing his arms, Grumpy smirks. “See? How else do you think Snow White kept seven of us fed?”
A murmur of approval echoes around the room.
“Ten gold coins,” shouts Red Riding Hood. She shoots Big Bad Wolf a gleeful grin. “With a jug like that, I’ll keep you well and truly fed.”
Cinderella starts to raise her hand, but her Fairy Godmother slaps it down.
“Don’t bid, dear,” she whispers. “I heard Snow White stole the jug from her evil stepmother. That’s why she wanted to cut out Snow White’s heart. You don’t need that kind of drama in your life.”
Cinderella lowers her hand, her face turning ashen.
“Do I hear an advance on ten gold coins?” the auctioneer asks.
“Fifteen,” says Goldilocks. “Mmm . . . think of all the porridge I could make.”
“Think of all the porridge you could replace,” grumbles Mamma Bear.
“Twenty-five,” Red Riding Hood shouts, glaring at Goldilocks.
“Thirty,” calls Gretel. “We could make twice as many bread crumbs, Hansel. Then we wouldn’t get lost.”
“Not bread crumbs,” Hansel says. “Barley sugar and gingerbread and liquorice sticks and—”
“Fifty gold coins,” shouts the Wicked Witch. She leers at Hansel. “You won’t be skin and bones now, boy.”
A snore interrupts the bidding.
“Did I hear a bid?” asks the auctioneer.
“It’s only Beauty,” the Fairy Godmother says. “She’s fallen asleep again.”
Red Riding Hood raises her hand. “Sixty,” she says.
Big Bad Wolf sneers. “You don’t have sixty gold coins.”
She gives him a smug smile. “I have backers.”
“Who?” Big Bad Wolf asks.
“Us.” The Three Little Pigs shove through the crowd. Crossing their arms, they stand next to Red Riding Hood.
“Your days of trying to eat us are over, Wolfy,” Third Little Pig says. “We’ll keep you fed and full on all sorts of baked goodies. You’ll get so fat you won’t even be able to blow out a candle.”
“Well, keeping him full would be a relief,” says Mrs. Goat from behind them. “But I’m sorry, Miss Hood, I’ve got seven of my own younguns to feed.” She lifts a hoof. “Eighty gold coins.” She gives Big Bad Wolf a smile that would melt butter. “With a jug like that there’ll be no need for me to go shopping all the time.”
“Going once at eighty gold coins,” the auctioneer says.
Red Riding Hood scowls. “One hundred gold coins.” She pokes out her tongue at Mrs. Goat.
“It’s rude, don’t you think, to sell off Snow White’s possessions,” Rapunzel says to Princess Jasmine. “She only died yesterday.”
“The dwarfs can’t afford an excavator to dig the grave,” Jasmine whispers. “They spent all their money on building that stupid glass coffin.”
“Why didn’t Doc think to drop a gold coin in the jug?” Rapunzel asks. “The fine print on the certificate says the magic works on anything. They could get all the money they need.”
Jasmine shrugs. “I guess he’s not so smart after all.”
Overhearing them, Ugly Stepsister Two sticks up her hand. “Two hundred gold coins,” she shouts.
Her sister gapes at her. “What are you doing? We don’t have that kind of money?”
“Not yet,” Stepsister Two says with a sly grin.
“Do I hear two hundred and fifty?” the auctioneer asks.
Red Riding Hood confers with the three pigs. They shake their heads, looking grim. Mrs. Goat’s ears droop.
“Two hundred going once,” the auctioneer says.
Big Bad Wolf gives Red Riding Hood a toothy grin and rubs his stomach.
“Going twice.”
Sleeping Beauty snorts again.
“Is that a bid I hear?” the auctioneer asks.
“No,” shouts the crowd in unison.
The auctioneer raises his gavel. “Final bid at two hundred gold coins—”
The door to the auditorium slams open. “One thousand gold coins!”
A hush falls over the crowd. Snow White marches into the auditorium, dragging a pale-faced Prince Charming by the hand. Her skin is blistered like pork crackling. Her lips are sunburned red. Stopping at the podium, she glares at the auctioneer.
“I’ll take that,” she says, snatching the measuring jug from his hand.
“I didn’t bring my cheque book,” Charming says, patting his pockets.
Snow White rolls her eyes. “Idiot,” she says.
She turns to the Seven Dwarfs. “You, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you.” She jabs each in the chest with a pointed finger. “I can’t believe you left me for dead. Under glass? In full sunlight? Whose brainless idea was that? Look at me? I’m cooked.”
The Seven Dwarfs stare at her, mouths agape.
“Um—” Dopey says.
Snow White throws up her hands. “Forget it. I’m done with the lot of you. And just so you know, I’m moving out. To a castle. With a room of my own.”
Sticking her nose in the air, she strides from the room.
The gavel falls with a bang.
“Sold,” cries the auctioneer, “to Snow White and her new fiancé. Well done,” he says to Prince Charming.
Prince Charming grimaces. “I’ll say.”