Cinderella arrived at the ball to find the castle under lockdown.
“Sorry, my lady,” a guardsman said. “No-one’s getting in or out.”
“Witchcraft, ma’am. Nasty business. I’m afraid Lord and Lady Rochester have been killed.”
At the entrance to the coach-park was a pumpkin, surrounded by a spray of red – the kind of spray that might result from an occupied carriage becoming a lot smaller very fast.
Cinders felt herself turn pale. “I… I should go…”
The guardsman paused, and looked at Cinderella’s carriage. The rounded design. The orange tints. “Actually, ma’am… I may have a few questions…”
Magic or no magic, you don’t get to mess with the 3rd law of motion.