Perfect. Some soft music. Romantic lighting … that will do the trick!

I hear a scratching sound and then —

Boom, boom, boom!

It’s dance music. Loud, bouncy, dance music.

“Wahoo!” Mrs. Butler calls out and starts to wave her arms in the air. “Dance party!”

Wait a sec. I didn’t say dance party, did I?

A streak of red blazes across the room. And then a streak of green. And yellow. And blue. Mr. Butler has a disco ball. A multicolored disco ball.

“Party, party, party!” Mr. Butler yells.

“Fun!” Jonah calls out and starts to jump up and down.

“No, no, no,” I say. But no one listens.

Now Mr. Beast starts to wiggle his arms overhead, too.

“This is not what I had in mind,” I say. “Can we put on something slower?”

Mrs. Butler points to her ear. “I can’t hear you! THE MUSIC IS TOO LOUD.”

Crumbs.

I march off to the other side of the room to find the record player myself. The record that’s playing is in fact labeled FAST DANCE.

I spot a stack of records on the table and flip through them quickly.

MEDIUM DANCE. FAST DANCE 2. SLOW DANCE.

There we go!

I pull FAST DANCE off the record player with a loud scratch.

“Hey!” Mrs. Butler calls. “What happened?”

“Sorry!” I chirp. “It was a little loud. I thought we’d start off with something slightly softer.”

I put on SLOW DANCE. A soft melody comes out. It sounds like a lullaby.

Mr. Butler bows and Mrs. Butler curtsies. She goes into his arms and they leisurely waltz across the hall.

Beauty and Mr. Beast stare awkwardly at each other. Neither of them seems to want to make the first move.

I clap my hands like a ballet teacher. “Pair up, pair up. Mr. Beast! Would you mind dancing with Beauty, please?”

Even with all his fur, I can see that he’s blushing. “Um, would you like to dance?” he asks her.

She blushes, too. “I guess,” she says.

I wish she’d sound a teeny, tiny bit more enthusiastic.

He takes one of her hands in his. He puts his other arm around her waist.

They stare at each other for a beat.

And then — he shuffles to the right. She shuffles to the right. He shuffles back to the left. She shuffles back to the left. They’re dancing! Hurrah!

Now he’s looking down at her. He’s smiling. She’s looking up at him! She’s smiling! They’re connecting. This is romance!

“Owwwww!” Mr. Beast howls.

They tear apart. Mr. Beast falls to the floor.

“What happened?” I ask, rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry,” Beauty cries. “I stepped on his foot with my heel! He’s not wearing shoes. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

“We’re in my house,” Mr. Beast barks. “Why would I wear shoes in my own house?”