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Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen whose fondest wish had come true: They had been blessed with a baby girl. For their daughter’s christening, they invited all the good fairies of the land to a grand banquet. Just as the flambé was being served, the fairies began to bestow their blessings onto the newborn. The first gave her beauty; the second, a lovely singing voice; the third, grace in dancing. Unfortunately, as the gifts accrued, none of the fairies thought to grant her the most important present of all: presence of mind.
Just as the final fairy opened her lips to speak, the kingdom’s token wicked fairy flew into the banquet room, furious that she had not been invited. Her gift, she declared, was premature death. Before the princess turned sixteen, she would prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and instantly die. With a malicious chortle, the malevolent one flew off, her raggedy purple wings beating in cartoonish frenzy behind her.
The good fairy who had been interrupted used all her magic to soften the wicked fairy’s curse. Instead of dying, the princess would merely fall into a century-long sleep. And all members of the castle would doze along with her.
And so it came to pass, for the princess grew up with an unnatural fascination with all manner of spinning and weaving. On the eve of turning sixteen, she happened upon a spinning wheel in the highest turret of the castle. She pricked her finger on the spindle, and all fell to slumber. A great briar arose around the castle.
When the century had passed, everyone awoke in foul moods. Here they were, a century behind their neighboring kingdoms, and now they had an enormous briar to chop down. They groused among themselves. Why had the princess pricked her finger on the spindle when she’d been warned so many times? Why this near-fatal fascination with spinning wheels and spindles and all accoutrements of weaving? They suspected this sleeping beauty was a little more warp than weft, if you know what I mean, and they took to calling her Fruitcake of the Loom.
And they weren’t far off. One day her ladies-in-waiting caught her reaching for yet another spindle. They snatched it from her grasp, just barely saving themselves from another century-long snooze.
The king and queen called an emergency council of the fairies to ask what could be done about Fruitcake and her itchy finger. The head fairy declared that a miracle was needed. She waved her wand and—lo and behold!—a Miracle Bra magically clad the princess. From then on, whenever the princess approached a spindle, the Miracle Bra would sound an alarm. And the kingdom stayed awake happily ever after.
