“But why don’t you want to be Prince Charming? I just don’t understand.” Beryl worried a handkerchief nearly to the point of tearing with her plump little hands. Saske could see she was almost to the point of tears, but he wasn’t going to relent. A man had to draw the line somewhere.

“I have no problem spending our honeymoon in Orlando, babycakes. And if it means that much to you we can get married in the Magic Kingdom. But does it have to be Cinderella themed?”

Beryl dabbed at the corners of her eyes and fanned the collection of brochures at Saske. “There’s Sleeping Beauty. We could do Sleeping Beauty. They have animatronic replicas of Flora, Fauna and Merryweather that float around on little gasbags and even a Maleficent that storms from the back when the priests asks if anyone has any objections.”

“Thats not what I meant…”

“You can have Maleficent turn into a holographic dragon if you want. You could fight her. They give you a sword.”

“I don’t want a sword…”

“My cousin Stacy had the Little Mermaid and she said the Ursela was just fantastic. I’d have to dye my hair red for that.” Beryl’s tears were lost, and she was now fingering her auburn curls in front of the hallway mirror.

“I don’t want you to dye your hair red!” Saske didn’t mean to shout, but now that he was started, he couldn’t keep it in. “I don’t want to marry Ariel, or Aurora, or Cinderella! I want to marry you!”

“And you don’t think I’m a princess?” The tears were starting to come back, and Beryl sunk down into the sofa. She looked at the handkerchief in her hands, “I think you’re Prince Charming.”

Saske sat down next to Beryl and put his hands on hers. “You’re a princess to me, sweetie. You’re my princess. Not Walt’s. What is it you want out of that type of wedding?”

Beryl looked him deep in the eyes. “The fairy tale, honey. I want to be Cinderella, if just for a night.”

“In rags, scrubbing the fireplace?”

“No, silly! Cinderella isn’t about rags!”

Saske looked at the brochures, the glossy, pastel gowns and the castle backdrops. “No, I guess not. You’d think Little Red Riding Hood would be in here. I loved that movie. I could be The Wolf for that.”

“The Wolf isn’t a romantic hero!”

Saske turned to his fiancé with a saucy gleam in his eye. “Au contraire, my little Forest Traveler,” he growled. “Allow me to show you how wrong that notion is!”

“Oh my!” Beryl said. “How big you are!”