Fairy Godmother

'Y'ant t' go naow?' the man said to the boy, who shook his head stubbornly, though his face bore an expression that was as desperate as Elena felt.

The moment the last of the sun went below the horizon, she would have to go. The Fair would be over, and there would be no chance of finding a place until next year. Oh, officially it wasn't over until midnight, but no one would be here, looking for someone to hire, after the sun set.

Laundry, she thought, despondently. I can take in laundry. At least, as long as I can keep the creditors from taking the house. I can keep those hens that Blanche offered me. The kitchen garden will feed them and me both. At least, as long as I can keep the creditors from taking the house —

Then, just as the sun sank behind the buildings to touch the horizon, came an unexpected noise —

It came from the street leading into the square, the sound of hooves and wheels rattling on the cobbles. Which was odd — the stall-holders would not come to take down their booths and stalls until tomorrow, and anyone coming to stay at the inn was already there. Could it be — was there the slightest chance — ?

She looked up, peering down towards the street.

The vehicle rattled into the square; an odd little dog-cart, driven by a little old lady dressed in a quite eccentric outfit of clothing. It could have been gypsy clothing, if gypsies were neat as a pin, impeccably groomed, and wore beautifully sewn and ornamented garments that looked far newer than Elena's. It was certainly bright enough to be gypsy clothing; scarlet boots with black stitching, blue skirt embroidered with red and yellow flowers and green leaves, black bodice, yellow blouse, scarlet vest, and wildly embroidered black shawl. The old woman wore her hair in a fat knot at the back of her head, from which little curling wisps were escaping.

The cart was as odd as the driver, also scarlet, painted all over in multicolored flowers. And the horse — or perhaps, pony — was the oddest of all. It was grey with huge eyes, had floppy ears, a hunched back, and was no bigger than a mastiff, but it was wildly strong, for it pulled that cart with no perceptible effort at all, and looked altogether jaunty and proud of itself. And it wore a straw hat, both floppy ears pulled through holes and falling over the brim.

'Ah!' the old lady said, pulling up in front of Elena. 'Good. You haven't gone home; that speaks well for your spirit! I'm very glad to see it. Would you like a position?'

'Ah — ' Elena said, looking startled, into a pair of the bluest, kindest eyes she had ever seen. Someone kind — She did not even have to think. It didn't matter what was wanted. 'Ah — yes! Yes, please!'

'In with you then, my dear!' the old lady said, and Elena wasted not a second; she tossed her bundle into the back of the cart and scrambled up beside the old woman. She didn't even stop to ask what the position was —

As they drove out of the square, she heard the man ask his son again, 'Y'ant t' go naow?' and heard the boy say, stubbornly, 'No. Tain't tomorrow, yet. I'm stayin' till midnight.' She looked back at them, until the cart turned a corner and they were lost behind buildings, wondering what would happen to the poor lad.

The little horse picked up speed, trotting with all his might and main, still showing no signs that the cart was too heavy for him, acting as if, in fact, it was lighter than thistledown. As they passed under the wall that encircled the town, and through the town gates, dusk descended.

The little horse picked up his pace, until he was galloping, his tiny hooves flying —

There was a bump, and Elena clutched the side of the cart. The old woman was making no attempt to rein her horse in, and he was going awfully fast. In fact, they were right out of sight of the town walls now, the cart bumping and rattling along at a rate that put her heart right in her throat!

The cart gave a lurch, a bump, a wiggle, and a huge jolt that sent it flying into the air —

— and — it — didn't — come — down —

She gasped, and clutched at both the side of the cart and the old lady's arm, as they rose right up into the twilight sky, heading for the stars.

She tried to cry out in fear — instead, she squeaked. The old lady laughed, and tied off the reins. Elena looked down at the ground, and immediately regretted it.

'Don't look again, my dear,' the old woman said, cheerfully. 'At least, not until you get used to it.'

Elena tried to say something, but nothing would come out of her throat. Panic was the mildest description of what she felt right now —

A Witch! She must be a Witch! That was the only possible explanation for this. A powerful Witch — a very powerful Witch, one that made Fleur look like — like — Elena! No wonder she wasn't afraid of Madame, the way everyone else was. If she can make a cart and horsefly, she could turn Madame into a toad with a snap of her fingers!

But what did she want with Elena? Well, Witches ate, and presumably needed their houses cleaned. Maybe it was easier to hire a servant than to do it all by magic.

The old lady rummaged under the seat, nonchalantly taking out a basket. She flicked a finger, and a little round ball of light appeared over their heads, illuminating both of them. 'I'm sure you're hungry, Elena,' she said, with a cheerful smile. 'Would you help me with this?'

She began handing Elena napkins, a plate of sandwiches, another of little iced cakes, and cups of tea that somehow emerged steaming from the hamper. The cart was as steady as a house, and the seat between them became their table, spread with plates of food, a teapot, a small milk-jug, a bowl of sugar. It was absurd, impossible, ridiculous — and the very ordinariness of the cloth set for two, in the midst of all this impossibility, gave her a kind of anchor, something to grasp at. At this point, Elena's store of shock was beginning to run out — she accepted a sandwich and cup in a numb daze.

'Well,' said the old lady, in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone. 'I expect you would like to know what this is all about.'

Elena took a bite of her sandwich, automatically, because — well, because that was what you did with a