Snowmen for Mabel
Story by Deena Fisher
Once upon a time there was a fairy princess named Mabel who had a very hard time. She was different, you see, from her sisters, the other 11 fairy princesses. The others had long golden curly locks and lovely amethyst or jade or sapphire eyes. They had names like Isabella, Annalisa, Elisabeta and Onomatopoeia… But she was just plain Mabel with brown eyes and short, muckledy hair. Her crown didn’t even fit quite right. Mabel, being a clever sort, believed that what was inside mattered a bit more than outside, and made herself agreeable and found that she had friends when she wanted them. She didn’t spend as much time in front of the mirror as her sisters, though, not wanting to see her lack of golden hair or jewel-toned eyes. Instead, after they’d all had their lessons and were freed for the day, she wandered the gardens of the palace, and the stables, and the orchards, the mageries, the libraries and the armories, and made many friends and learned many things.
When the princesses had reached a certain age, as even princesses must, their queen mother gathered them all together and told them that they had not all been born princesses—only Mabel had been born a princess—but were gathered from all over the kingdom to help the kingdom face its darkest hour, which was soon upon them. A magic spell had been set, a curse, that would fall on the whole country, and that was what they’d all been studying to avoid. They didn’t know what it was, or exactly when it would happen, only that they’d been told by all the wisest in the land that women must face it, and women must prevail. The princesses were at a loss, but they rallied as best they might. They hugged one another and had a good cry, and then they studied all the arts they’d been learning all their lives. They reviewed magic spells, first aid, arms, defense and tactics, and they all waited with growing tension to see what would be. Summer passed, and then autumn, and before they knew it, the snow began to fall. Still, nothing happened.
The sister fairy princesses got married and had children of their own. Their queen mother passed on, and Mabel became queen. They waited for the trouble the queen mother had warned them about, but went about their lives, knowing that some day soon they would have to fight.
It started with one. They had all gathered back at the palace to celebrate the winter festival. Mabel, a little overcome by all the noise and wanting to steal a few moments for herself, slipped out to the garden. And on that lovely snowy afternoon, with no warning at all, Mabel fell and couldn’t rise. The snow melted on her cheeks and eyes and covered her almost completely before they came upon her. The eldest found her, and cried out for the others, and they all gathered around Mabel and gently took her up and bore her to her bed, called the mages and waited for their arrival. As they waited, the news began to trickle in. One in every dozen women throughout the kingdom had fallen in just the same way at just the same time. The princesses didn’t know what to do for any of them, much less their sister, the queen.
The princesses and their daughters gathered in their old solar and took up their sewing while they waited for news from the foremost mage. When it came it wasn’t all good. “I have seen this kind of curse before. It is hard to fight and no one is ever the same after, but sometimes it can be beaten, and sometimes one is stronger after the fight.”
All eleven princesses and their daughters looked at one another and determined that this was a fight they would win.
“What…what should we do?” asked Mabel’s daughter, Kathryn.
“I am not sure,” replied the mage, gravely. “You must do what is in your hearts, and I will do what is in my power to help.”
After he left, the princesses looked at one another helplessly. “What can we do?” they whispered to one another.
One princess spoke up. “We know beauty.”
Another said, “We know strength.”
A third replied, “We know courage.”
And the youngest in the group, Kathryn’s daughter, replied, “We can sew!”
They all laughed and the eldest added, “And we know joy.”
They were stumped, and looked down at all the pretty pink fabric in their laps. They’d been sewing doll dresses and fussy napkin holders and whimsical winter decorations, in pink, mostly, because they were pretty fairy princesses. “Mabel looked so cold, out there in the snow,” Onomatopoeia whispered.
They all looked at one another again, and then Willamina raised her hands and her fingers danced, and as they danced, her fabric rose and stitched itself together. Isabella, Annalisa and Elisabeta followed the pattern with their own hands, and then all the rest of the princesses joined in as a golden haze began to fill the room and all their pretty pink fabrics began to stitch themselves to one another—into snowmen.
They worked, despite how pretty and easy it looked, very hard. Into the fabric they sewed every bit of determination and courage and wisdom and love they could find within themselves, and then pushed for a little bit more. At midnight, they fell back, exhausted, and before them lay a beautiful, whimsical quilt. It was pink, with snow people and other happy winter delights scattered all about.
Onomatopoeia sighed. “That should keep Mabel warm while we fight…whatever it is we’re fighting.”
They took it up to Mabel’s room and lay it over her. Each went and kissed Mabel on the cheek and whispered words of love and encouragement and hope in her ear, tucked or patted the blanket one more time, and then tiptoed out. Willamina took the first watch.
Each of the princesses and their daughters took a turn at watching Mabel and wrapping her in love, and Mabel, with the help of the mages and the support of her sisters and daughters, slowly got better. Every day the princesses could see that Mabel tried a bit more, worked a little harder, fought against whatever it was that tied her to her bed in pain.
In the early spring, Mabel sat in the garden, the pink snowman quilt wrapped around her, and cried when she felt the watery spring sun on her cheeks.
The princesses came for her, slowly, with great solemnity. “It’s time.” said Willamina.
“I don’t think so.” Mabel replied, closing her eyes to better feel the sunlight. “I’m not the queen I was this time last year. I certainly can’t continue fill the throne as well as my mother did.”
Annalisa choked back a sob and Elisabetta patted her on the shoulder with sympathy.
“None of us are the same,” Onomatopoeia whispered.
Mabel stood and dropped the quilt. “Really? Do any of you look like this?”
They stood and surveyed her. She no longer had muckledy colored hair–she had no hair at all. Her figure wasn’t quite as straight and strong.
“You’re beautiful.” They whispered it, until Willamina found the courage to say it out loud. “You’re beautiful. You’re strong. You’re brave. You fight. That’s the kind of queen anyone should be proud to have.”
The princesses waited a moment, and then they turned and walked back out of the garden unsure if they would have to tell the crowd waiting to see their queen that she had not yet resumed the crown, when they heard a sound behind them.
Mabel closed the door to the garden quietly. “I suppose I have a duty to live,” she said. “Besides, I’m owed many more days of sunlight on my face.” She reached out for the crown Willamina held and placed it gently on her naked head, then she led the way out to show herself to the people it was her duty to lead.
The crown fit. Perfectly. And the people outside roared their love.
A few years went by, but no one forgot. The mages, the sisters, their daughters and their friends, worked to stop the curse from ever falling again. Once in a while, a woman would be struck. Some lived. Some died. And then, despite all their work, Mabel was struck by the curse again. The sisters and daughters and granddaughters gathered again. The mage was called. But, nothing could be done. They wrapped Mabel in the pink snowman quilt and took turns staying by her side until the very end. The sisters were with Mabel when she passed on, but her daughter and granddaughter were at their homes. The sisters did not want to wake Kathryn and tell her the news, but Kathryn awoke at just that moment. She knew her mother Mabel was at peace, and she determined to fight the curse even harder, for her daughter and her daughter’s friends. It was her new duty as queen.
The sisters and daughters and granddaughters gathered after the funeral to make a new plan. Once again they asked, “What can we do?”
One princess spoke up. “We know beauty.”
Another said, “We know strength.”
A third replied, “We know courage.”
And the youngest in the group, Kathryn’s daughter, replied again, “We can sew!”
They all laughed and the eldest added, “And we know joy.”
The sisters listened to Mabel’s wise young granddaughter and set about to sew more quilts to keep those struck by the curse warm. They stitched together more pink fabrics into snow people and went out to find the other women struck by the curse—to warm them, to encourage them to keep fighting, and to bring them great joy, as Mabel had always brought them. They fought the curse with snowmen for Mabel.
*In memory of Helen Mabel Crawford Hunt, who brought us all great joy*
