Goldilocks was transported by a fairy godmother into Cinderella’s coach. The golden coach seemed to be gliding down some palisade toward a pavilion. The sunny tressed lass looked down at her feet. She was wearing shiny gold and silver pumps. Whooooh! This must be some soiree she whispered to herself.

Goldilocks was munching from a bowl of popcorn and gazing at the passing scenery when an owl fluttered over and questioned her, with a wry grin. “Who, who are you?” the owl inquired.

“Why, I’m Goldilocks. This is my story. Who, who are you?”

“That remains to be seen,” the wise owl replied and whooshed away.

Goldie was beginning to feel like dancing. She pulled her shimmering wrap about her shoulders to ward off the evening chill and sighed.

We’ll dance into the moonlight she whispered to herself and leaned against the side of the coach. The coach shuddered to a sudden halt.

Goldilocks hopped out of the coach, down the fancy golden steps. She sashayed down the golden carpet toward the ballroom door.

Inside, she gasped. “Wow! Everything is so fancy here. Sparkly punch bowls, sparkling drinks and silver and gold! Why, this is my story.”

Decked out by the fairy godmother, Goldilocks was quite a shimmery golden lovely herself this summer night. Nobleman after nobleman asked her to dance and true to her wish they danced on into the moonlight. The moonlight glimmering on a fountain caused Goldie to stop and whistle, “I’ve forgotten my cell phone. I need it to get back to my Goldilocks kingdom. And how, and now.”

Goldilocks rushed over to the magic coach and told the driver to take her home. Pronto. In a jiffy. She munched on more popcorn and smiled. At last the coach pulled up in the drive of a gingerbread house.

‘Who’s that knocking at my door?” queried the wise woman inside.

“It’s me, Goldilocks,” replied a glum Goldie.

“Then why should I let you in?” the crone replied.

“Why, it’s my house. It’s my gingerbread house,” insisted a grinning Goldie.

“Oh, some prince has been looking for you. He wants to know if you’ll come to some ball and dance past midnight. Wants to know your mobile number.”

“You go, girl,” Goldie clucked in reply. “Good to go.”

Then a hooligan kind of spritely older lady zoomed out the front door on a motor scooter and zoomed off to the palisade to the pavilion to dance the knight’s a way!