A/N: Hmmm…well…so much for the speedy updates. Holidays again! Hopefully this means there will be more coming (and I promise to finally update TFGM as well. Six months between updates is perhaps a little excessive).

Thank you very very much to my reviewers:

Druantia (I hope that's right) : D

Phillippa of the Phoenix: Thank you :-) I tend to prefer very short stories because they're easier (and quicker) to write. I do have some longer stuff coming, but probably not until the end-of-year break.

Metaphorical: Thanks! I prefer the first one too. I'm not so sure about this one, either – it's a bit different in style from the last two, and I'm not quite sure if it works.

Ardelis Mercy: It's not so much that the king disliked the blessing, it's that he couldn't see the point. Is sending the entire castle to sleep for a hundred years really any better than having the princess die? Surely they can always get more princesses… ;-). Thanks for your comments – and I have been enjoying your story too; it's very well-written.

This story is based on Catskin. Apologies if you've never read it, as it's not one of the most common of tales, but it's one of my favourites, and the opportunity just seemed too good to pass up. I'll get back on track next time with Cinderella.

Basically, it's quite similar to Cinderella, with more of a PG rating. The main idea is that the scullery maid, Catskin, who's really a princess in disguise (are there any scullery maids who aren't princesses in disguise?) has been attending the palace ball secretly in a gorgeous dress and captivating the (unmarried) king. After the ball, he sends for some soup, which Catskin makes and slips her golden ring into (I don't imagine it does much for the soup). He then summons her and quizzes her about where it came from, but she won't say anything. My story begins here…

Disclaimer: You may be very surprised to learn this, but I do not own any fairy tales whatsoever.

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Three: More Than One Way to Skin a Cat

The cook stood in the centre of the room, eyes wide, knees trembling. To either side of him was an armed guardsman, standing straight and stern, accounting for most of his fright. The rest was due entirely to the presence of the reigning monarch not three feet in front of him, who leaned forward and asked with a terrifying intensity:

"Was it you who made my soup?"

The cook answered with a strangled "No, Majesty"

"Then who was it?"

The cook gulped, he shivered, he shook, he gasped out:

" Catskin, Majesty. The scullery maid, Majesty." His posture sagged as the king's regard abruptly left him, switching to the guardsmen.

"Bring me Catskin."

x x x

Later, the same room, the same guardsmen, but standing between them was a curious creature indeed. What little could be seen beneath the parti-coloured fur mantle was smeared and smudged with dirt. The whole had a hunched stance, with a lowered head. This, then, was Catskin.

The king began:

"Did you make the soup that was brought to me not an hour ago?"

"Aye, Majesty." The voice was calm, and surprisingly melodic.

"Then tell me where you got… this from!" Brandished triumphantly in the king's hand was a golden ring.

Silence.

"It was at the bottom of the bowl" he prodded.

Silence.

"Where did a scullery maid get such a valuable trinket?"

Silence.

"Tell me where it came from!"

Silence.

Then: "I am only the scullery maid, Majesty. I'm fit for naught but to have old boots thrown at me."

"You'll get a damn sight more than that if you don't tell me where this ring came from!"

Silence.

"Answer me!"

"I am only the scullery maid, and I'm fit for naught–"

"As I thought. Guards, take this creature to the dungeons. The penalty for thieving" he informed Catskin, whose former cool composure had suddenly vanished, "is the loss of one hand. Perhaps you should have considered this earlier. Take her."

The guardsmen moved with brutal efficiency. Catskin had only time to half-turn towards the door before heavy gauntlets clamped down on each arm. The king caught a glimpse of a frightened, soot-streaked face and huge eyes dark with terror as they wrestled her towards the door.

"No, wait, I can explain–" her shriek was cut off by the guardsman's hand.

"Too late." said the king, as the door slammed shut behind the guards, and their writhing prisoner. He sighed, somewhat upset by the whole unpleasant business. Far better to let his mind dwell on nicer things…

He remembered once again the music, and the way her dress, shining like the sun, had swirled around her. The way she had moved, like an angel, and the look in her beautiful eyes through the apertures of the mask. Ah! And he had never even found out who she was. But there was to be another dance in a month's time. Perhaps she would come to that…

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It's a bit…different…from the last two, and probably a bit less funny, but I hope that you still liked it.

As always, thank you very much for reading, and if you liked it, please feel free to review.

- iridescent mists -