“A witch she was,” he said. “And in a wave of her hand, I was no longer myself. I was a cat! That’s right, the very sort that hunts for mice or sleeps by your hearth. I opened my mouth to protest, to cry out for help, but the only sound that came out was a meowwwwwww.”

Nervous laughter followed. A few small children clapped their hands, clearly delighted at the prospect of becoming cats.

It was the storyteller Maleficent had enchanted. She walked to the edge of his crowd, raising a single eyebrow at him. This time she wore no cloak. He could see her quite clearly.

“And that began m-my adventure,” he stammered, his face paling at the sight of Maleficent. He went on with the tale, obviously rattled. “I ran into the bushes. The witch hunted for me but could not discover my hiding place. Long I waited, tail twitching, trying to get used to a body that moved on all fours and was overwhelmed with smells. Luckily, cats from the neighborhood found me. I fell in with a grizzled old tom who gave me good advice. He showed me how to hunt. Soon I was happy lying in the sun, eating what I caught, drinking from streams. I even found a cat to take to wife, and we were soon expecting our first litter of kittens. My old life seemed far behind me, though I never quite got used to the fleas.

“But then this good lady, Maleficent the faerie, came upon me and turned me back into myself. And here she is, the hero of the hour. My lady, you have my thanks! Truly, this story is a tribute to you.”

Maleficent was impressed and amused by the tale he’d spun out of perhaps a week spent sulking around the Moors in feline form. She bowed to both him and the crowd.

After some wandering across the grass, Diaval had acquired a mug of some foaming beverage that he was effusive in praising, and Maleficent had spotted where the dancing was to take place.

Better-dressed people milled close to a large bonfire, where a band had struck up a tune. As Maleficent approached, she saw that the nobles were even more afraid of her than the villagers had been, shrinking back, ladies in gowns clutching one another’s hands. She tried to smile, but at the sight of her fangs, a woman tripped and fell into the balloon of her own dress. It took two footmen to get her up again.

Diaval had to be turned into a raven for a full five minutes to hide his laughter.

Across the way, Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass buzzed around without causing much alarm, but when a faerie piper offered his services to the musicians, she could tell that they were afraid he would lead the crowd in an enchanted dance.