‘It’s just a mouse.’ Dreamy was crouched in the road. ‘Look.’ The prince hauled himself to his aching feet and limped over. A small field mouse, a scar cutting down its back, was merrily cleaning itself in the middle of their path. It paused and looked up curiously at them, completely unafraid. Dreamy laughed a little. ‘It’s just a mouse.’

‘Look at the mess. I’m sure that wheel isn’t sitting right. This is going to—’

‘What’s that sound?’ The prince frowned.

‘What sound? Dreamy looked round, suddenly peering through the gaps in the trees, no doubt for the arrival of soldiers.

‘Listen.’ The prince turned back towards the broken cart. It had come from that direction. He heard it again. A cough. ‘That.’

The little mouse scurried between their legs and over to the glass coffin which lay, half-spilled, still covered with the dirty blanket, on the road. They all turned and watched as he sniffed around a little and then nibbled on a fallen potato. The cough came again. Light and feminine.

‘The coffin,’ the prince whispered. ‘It’s coming from the coffin.’

The prince reached it first, the dwarves right behind him and between the three of them they carefully laid it out on the road and pulled the blanket away. From inside, Snow White looked blearily up at them, the small piece of apple that had been trapped in her throat now lying on her chest.

‘The crash dislodged it!’ Dreamy cried. ‘She hadn’t swallowed it! It was stuck half-way!’

‘Get her out of there,’ Grouchy grumbled. ‘The clasps on the side. Undo them.’

The prince was already working at them. Was this a dream? Were they still walking through the night and this was just an illusion that would shatter at any moment? Could she really be awake? He’d wished for this moment since he’d first laid eyes on her, and now here it was, out of the blue.

The glass lid came away, and he leaned forward.

‘Who are you?’ Her voice was husky and cracked a little.

‘Shh,’ he said, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were every bit as soft and sweet as he’d imagined them to be. He lingered for a few seconds enjoying the feel of her body heat rising from the confines of the glass, and then he pulled back. She looked up at him, breathless.

‘I’m the man you’re going to marry.’

She sat up suddenly and looked down at her dress and then at the apple in her hand. ‘Um . . . what’s going on?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Dreamy said. ‘Let’s get a fire going and we’ll tell you. First,’ he leaned in towards the apple, ‘we should throw that away.’