Princess Mirror-Belle and Prince Precious Paws

by Julia Donaldson

  Mr Spalding looked from the photographs to Splodge and back again. “You’re quite right . . . But the girl he was with looked just like your sister . . . It’s most extraordinary.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr Spalding. We all make mistakes sometimes,” said Luke graciously.

  “Well, I do apologize. And perhaps I should apologize to you, old chap,” said Mr Spalding, patting Splodge rather timidly on the head.

  Luke wondered if Splodge knew he had been wrongly accused. Maybe he even knew who the mystery dog was. But Splodge just gazed up at Mr Spalding with his usual trusting expression. Whatever he knew, he was keeping quiet about it.

  Chapter Two

  Which Witch?

  “Two witches flew out on a moonlit night.

  Their laughs were loud and their eyes were bright.

  Their chins and their noses were pointed and long.

  They shared the same broom and they sang the same song.

  Their hats and their cloaks were as black as pitch,

  And nobody knew which witch was which.”

  It was Halloween. Ellen, dressed up as a witch, was practising the poem she was planning to go round reciting with her friend Katy.

  Most of Ellen’s other friends were going out trick-or-treating, but Ellen’s mum disapproved of that. She said that in Scotland, where she grew up, children had to recite a poem or tell a joke to earn their Halloween treats. So that was what Ellen and Katy were going to do. It was called guising.

  Downstairs, Mum was teaching the piano. One of her star pupils was playing a fast piece whose tune kept going very low and then very high. It reminded Ellen of a witch swooping and soaring on her broomstick, and made her feel excited.

  The phone rang. Ellen answered it, and a snuffly Katy said, “It’s so unfair. My mum won’t let me go out, just because my cold’s got worse.”

  “Oh, poor you,” said Ellen, but it was herself she really felt sorry for. As she put the phone down, all her excitement vanished. What was she going to do? She didn’t feel like going out on her own, and anyway the poem was supposed to be recited by two identical witches. But now it was too late to ask anyone else to go with her. She would just have to stay at home. What a waste of all the trouble she had taken over her costume – sewing silver stars on to the cloak, spraying glitter on the hat and carving a face out of her pumpkin lantern. She glanced wistfully at herself in the mirror.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve lost your cat,” came a familiar voice, and a witchy Princess Mirror-Belle stepped out of the mirror, shedding glitter and flourishing her wand.

  For once, Ellen was delighted to see her. “What good timing!” she greeted Mirror-Belle. “Now we can go guising together!”

  “Disguising is not for the likes of me,” said Mirror-Belle. “Your costume may be a disguise, but I really am a witch.”

  “I said guising, not disguising,” said Ellen, “and anyway, how can you be a witch when you’re always telling me you’re a princess?”

  “Of course I’m a princess,” replied Mirror-Belle. “But a wicked ogre has turned me into a witch. A royal witch, of course,” she added hastily.

  “Why did he do that?”

  “Because my golden ball landed in his garden and he saw me climbing over his wall to get it back.”

  “If you’re a real witch, can you actually fly that broomstick?” asked Ellen hopefully. Mirror-Belle was holding a small twiggy broomstick just the same as her own.

  “Unfortunately, the rotten wizard refused to give me a cat, and everyone knows that a broomstick won’t fly without a cat on it. I was hoping that I could borrow your cat, but you seem to have let it escape.”

  “I never had one,” said Ellen. “Anyway, Mirror-Belle, do please come guising with me. I’ll teach you the poem, and then we can go round the houses and people will give us lots of goodies.”

  Mirror-Belle’s eyes lit up at the mention of goodies and, after a quick rehearsal of the poem, she followed Ellen downstairs. The impressive sounds of Mum’s star pupil were still drifting out of the sitting room.

  Ellen found them each a carrier bag. “These are to collect the goodies,” she explained. “Mum says we’re only to go to people we know and only in this block.”

  They stepped out into the night.

  “Let’s start here,” said Mirror-Belle, marching up to the house next door.

  “No, number 17’s been empty since the Johnsons moved out,” Ellen told her. “We’ll go to the Elliots’.”

  Mr and Mrs Elliot were the elderly couple who lived two doors along and always had a supply of old-fashioned sweets like pear drops and humbugs and bullseyes.

  Mrs Elliot opened the door. She pretended to be scared. “Oh, help! I’d better let you in quickly, before you turn me into a toad,” she said.

  “Yes, that would be a good idea,” Mirror-Belle agreed.

  Mrs Elliot showed them into the cosy front room, where her husband was sitting in an armchair by the fire.

  Ellen and Mirror-Belle recited their poem, and Ellen was pleased at how well Mirror-Belle remembered it.

  “And nobody knew which witch was which,” they finished up. At least, it was supposed to be the end, but Mirror-Belle carried on with another two lines:

  “But one of the two was in fancy dress

  While the other was really a royal princess.”

  Mr Elliot chuckled, and Mrs Elliot said, “You’ve definitely earned your bullseyes.”

  “I’d rather have some newts’ eyes, if you don’t mind,” said Mirror-Belle. “They’re better for spells.”

  Mrs Elliot just laughed. She took down a big glass jar from the mantelpiece and began to pour some of the striped sweets into Mirror-Belle’s carrier bag.

  “These don’t look like eyes to me,” Mirror-Belle complained. “They’re just boiled sweets. How are we supposed to do any magic with them?”

  Ellen glared at her, but the Elliots laughed again, as if Mirror-Belle had been performing another party piece.

  Mr Elliot beckoned them over and handed them two fifty-pence pieces.

  “Oh, I see,” said Mirror-Belle. “You’re expecting us to go to the eye shop ourselves.” Then she studied her coin. “I don’t think any decent eye shop would accept this,” she said. “The writing is back to front.”

  “Stop being so cheeky,” Ellen muttered, but Mr Elliot roared with laughter and said, “This beats the telly any day.”

  When they were back outside, Ellen ticked Mirror-Belle off again. “I know the Elliots thought it was funny, but other people might not,” she said. “And I don’t want to get Katy into trouble. Remember that people probably think you’re her.”

  “But it’s so puzzling,” said Mirror-Belle. “What do witches want with sweets and money? Surely we should be collecting things like frogs’ legs and vampires’ teeth?” Then a thoughtful look crossed her face. “Oh, I understand,” she said. “Well, we’d better get a move on. We’re going to need a huge amount of sweets.”

  Ellen didn’t really see why, but she wasn’t in the mood for listening to a long, fanciful explanation, so she was relieved to see Mirror-Belle striding up the path of the next house and ringing on the bell.

  An hour or so later, their carrier bags were full of sweets, biscuits, fruit and money.

  “Shall we go back to my house?” Ellen suggested to Mirror-Belle, who had been remarkably well behaved – apart from adding the extra two lines to the poem every time they recited it.

  “I don’t think we’ll need to do that,” said Mirror-Belle mysteriously.

  Before Ellen could ask what she meant, she was striding off again.

  “Where are you going?” asked Ellen, trying to catch up.

  “In here,” said Mirror-Belle, and pointed her wand at the doors of the mini-supermarket at the end of the road. The doors swung open, as they always did, but she turned and gave Ellen a triumphant look as if she had performed some magic.

  Mirror-Belle took a trolley. She d
umped her wand and broomstick in it and hung her lantern and carrier bag on the hook at the back. Then she pushed it swiftly up the first aisle to the meat counter at the far end of the shop. Ellen had a horrible feeling that she was going to start demanding newts’ eyes and frogs’ legs, but instead Mirror-Belle turned her back on the counter and began to recite the poem at the top of her voice.

  There weren’t many customers in the shop and, to Ellen’s relief, no one took much notice. But her relief faded when Mirror-Belle, having finished her version of the poem on a note of triumph, pushed her trolley down the next aisle and started filling it with sweets.

  “You can’t just take all of those!” Ellen protested, as Mirror-Belle threw in a dozen bags of toffees.

  “I agree it would have been polite of someone to offer them to us – not to mention loading the trolley – but unfortunately there’s not a servant in sight,” said Mirror-Belle, emptying the shelves of liquorice allsorts and reaching for the jelly babies. “It would be quicker if you’d help me,” she added.

  Ellen tried to think of something to say that would stop Mirror-Belle, but she knew from experience how difficult this was. In any case, the trolley was nearly full now and Mirror-Belle seemed satisfied with her haul.

  “Come on,” she said, and made her way to one of the checkouts. But instead of stopping and taking the sweets out, she sailed on through.

  “Stop!” cried Ellen.

  Mirror-Belle was about to push the trolley outside when a shop assistant ran after her and grabbed it.

  Ellen felt terrified. What if they were both arrested for shoplifting?

  “You haven’t paid for this lot, have you?” said the assistant.

  “Certainly not,” replied Mirror-Belle. “Has it escaped your attention that this is Halloween and that Ellen and I are guising?”

  “Not in here, you’re not,” the shop assistant said firmly.

  Mirror-Belle turned to Ellen. “Shall we turn this rude servant into a black beetle?” she suggested.

  The shop assistant ignored her and steered the trolley firmly back to the checkout.

  “You either pay for them or put them back,” he said.

  “It’s extremely lucky for you that my wand is buried under all the sweets,” Mirror-Belle told him. “Poor Ellen here isn’t a real witch like me, so she can’t do the black-beetle spell.”

  Ellen could see that Mirror-Belle was just making the assistant angrier and she was scared that he might phone the police. She had to make Mirror-Belle see sense!

  “Listen, Mirror-Belle,” she said. “We did collect quite a lot of money. If you’re so keen for more sweets, perhaps we can buy some of them.”

  Mirror-Belle sighed. “Very well,” she said, “if you think it will stop the servants rioting.”

  They had enough money for five bags of toffees, four each of liquorice allsorts and jelly babies, and six packets of chewing gum.

  “But we’ll be sick if we eat all these as well as the sweets and chocolates people gave us,” Ellen objected as they left the shop.

  “Eat them, did you say? Eat them?” Mirror-Belle laughed, as if the idea were absurd. “Where would we live if we ate them?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m afraid you’re not very well informed about witches, Ellen. Didn’t you know that they always live in houses made of sweets?”

  Ellen thought about this. “I know that the witch in ‘Hansel and Gretel’ had a house of sweets – or was it gingerbread? – but I can’t think of any others.”

  “Where will we build it, I wonder,” mused Mirror-Belle, ignoring Ellen and marching back the way they had come. “I know! In the garden of that empty house.”

  “Mirror-Belle, don’t be silly. We haven’t got nearly enough sweets to build a house. And anyway, how would we stick them all together?”

  “Chewing gum!” said Mirror-Belle, popping a piece into her mouth. “Ah, here we are.”

  They had reached the empty house, and she opened the tall side gate which led into the overgrown back garden. Ellen followed her nervously.

  “Oh, how thoughtful of somebody,” said Mirror-Belle, pointing at a large shed in the corner of the garden. “Someone’s built it for us already. We’ll only need to decorate it.”

  At first Ellen just watched as Mirror-Belle started to stick jelly babies round one of the shed windows. But it did look rather good fun and soon she was joining in.

  “Black, white, pink, yellow,” she muttered, as she created a coloured pattern with liquorice allsorts round the other window. She was standing back to admire the effect when the garden gate creaked and began to open.

  “Someone’s coming!” she hissed. She pulled Mirror-Belle behind the shed, but couldn’t stop her peeping round the edge.

  “I think it’s the delivery men, come to furnish our new house,” said Mirror-Belle. “But surely we don’t need two televisions?”

  She hadn’t lowered her voice, but luckily it was drowned by a crash and a curse from the garden.

  Ellen couldn’t resist a peep herself. Although the garden was dark, she could make out two men, one carrying a television and another picking up a second television from the ground. Both of them were wearing balaclava helmets over their heads, so that only their eyes showed. They didn’t look like delivery men to Ellen, more like burglars who were hiding stolen goods. But she didn’t risk whispering this fear to Mirror-Belle, in case they heard her.

  One of the men had opened the shed door and must have been putting the televisions inside, while the other went back through the gate and then reappeared with a large square object covered in a sheet. Probably a stolen picture, thought Ellen.

  A sudden idea struck her. If she and Mirror-Belle climbed over the low wall into her own garden, they could get into her house through the back door and phone the police. With a finger over her lips, she pointed at the wall and then beckoned to Mirror-Belle.

  Ellen was already over the wall when she realized that Mirror-Belle wasn’t following her.

  “It’s a witch!” she heard one of the men say, and, “Don’t be daft, it’s a kid,” from the other.

  And then came Mirror-Belle’s voice – loud, clear and bossy as ever: “Don’t just dump that on the floor. Aren’t you going to hang it on the wall?”

  Instead of following Ellen, Mirror-Belle must have gone to check what sort of a job the “delivery men” were doing.

  Ellen stood frozen, uncertain whether to join Mirror-Belle or run home for help. Then she heard one of the men again. This time he was talking to Mirror-Belle.

  “I do apologize, madam. Just step inside and wait while we fetch our toolbox.”

  The next sounds came quickly. A slam, a metallic clink, some bashing and an angry “Let me out! What is the meaning of this?” from Mirror-Belle. Then footsteps and the creak of the garden gate. The men had locked Mirror-Belle in the shed and escaped!

  But had they both escaped? Ellen didn’t dare investigate by herself. Instead, she ran through her own garden and into the house through the back door.

  “Help! Help!” she cried.

  Dad came out of the kitchen, followed by Mum and Luke.

  “What’s the matter? Did a skeleton jump out at you?” Dad asked jokily.

  “The burglars have locked Mirror-Belle in the shed next door!” shrieked Ellen.

  “And now they’re getting away!”

  Mum and Dad still seemed to think this was some Halloween prank. It was Luke who ran to the front window.

  “Two men are getting into a van,” he reported. “And they’re wearing masks, or hoods, or something.”

  “Take down the number,” said Dad, and reached for the phone to call the police.

  Mum made Ellen sit down and drink some hot sweet tea “for shock”.

  When Ellen protested, “But we must go back next door! Mirror-Belle’s trapped! We’ve got to rescue her!” Dad said, “Not till the police arrive.” Ellen knew he thought Mirror-Belle was just an
imaginary friend.

  “Where’s Katy?” said Mum suddenly.

  “She’s all right. She’s at home,” said Ellen, but Mum phoned Katy’s parents just the same.

  “That’s strange. She’s in bed with a cold,” Mum said, sounding relieved but puzzled.

  “Yes . . . she couldn’t come, but then Mirror-Belle . . .” Ellen began, but a ring at the bell interrupted her explanation. It was the police.

  Katy was back at school on Monday. Like the rest of Ellen’s class, she had read in the paper about Ellen’s discovery of the shed full of stolen goods, and of how the burglars had been caught thanks to Luke getting the number of their van.

  “Just think! If only I hadn’t had that cold I’d be in the paper too,” she said.

  “But if you’d come with me instead of Mirror-Belle, we wouldn’t have gone to number 17.”

  “Did the police find Mirror-Belle as well as all the televisions?” asked Katy. Unlike Ellen’s family, she believed in Mirror-Belle, who had once come to their school.

  “No,” said Ellen. “You see, the men hadn’t just stolen televisions. When we were there they were hiding away something else. I thought it was a great big picture, but it wasn’t.”

  “What was it, then?” asked Katy.

  “It was a mirror,” said Ellen.

  Chapter Three

  The Princess Test

  “I hope you haven’t put spaghetti on that shopping list,” said Ellen to her brother, Luke. “Or mince. Or tinned tomatoes.”