"I am tired," the innkeeper's daughter growled, "of these unrealistic tales. Tell them to your children, but don't tell them here!" The group of travelers turned towards her.
"What's the problem with fairy tales?" a young, haughty lad asked. The innkeeper's daughter smirked.
"You must know little of the ways of men," she replied. "Or the ways of princes."
"Enlighten us," he replied.
"Well, princes and peasants don't kiss, for one," the girl announced, rearranging her skirts daintily. "And if, perchance, a prince were to want to 'kiss' a peasant, well…he wouldn't be considering marriage, exactly."
"Probably'd have other things on his mind," another woman agreed. There was quite a bit of laughter at this.
"And a prince can marry who he chooses," a hooded stranger added. The happy group looked up.
"True," the innkeeper's daughter agreed, though she would have admitted that she knew nothing of princes if she had been asked.
"…what they do, you see, is they choose the most beautiful maiden, and then they claim she has a title so that other commoners won't be lining up to try to seduce them," the stranger said quietly.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen," the innkeeper's daughter announced, "is why you should never trust a prince! Honestly, that can't be true, can it?" she asked the stranger. He stood, drawing back his hood and revealing his golden grown.
"You'd best start believing in fairy tales, girl," he growled. "You're in one." Suddenly the moonlight shone into the room, lighting on everyone present. The innkeepers daughter reeled in shock, and then the whole room turned into pirates—I mean, fairies!