Sparks had never run as fast in his entire life. Not when Margery had caught him stealing sausages from the fridge, not when Agnes started her violin lessons and not even when Cinders hung her stinky socks right over his doggy bed.

Mouse had quickly outrun the bear. He was much faster and much stronger and much more used to darting around in tight spaces, what with having spent most of his life as a rodent, and, by the time Sparks made it back to the bridge, Mouse was right by his side.

‘I know his name!’ he barked with joy. ‘We can free Cinders and continue on our way!’

Mouse squeaked with joy as they galloped on.

‘Get on outta here!’ the bear shouted, shaking his fist as the friends ran off. ‘You’re barred, the pair of you!’

*

By the time they got back to the goblin’s house, Mouse and Sparks were both so out of breath, they couldn’t even knock on the door.

‘Sparks, is that you?’ Cinders called, hearing a commotion outside.

‘I heard hooves!’ Hansel added. ‘Is it Mouse?’

‘Why are you inside the house?’ Sparks puffed, realising there were two pairs of eyes peering at him through the letterbox. ‘You were supposed to be rescuing Cinders, not keeping her company.’

‘We are aware that was the original plan,’ Cinders grumbled as Hansel blushed, embarrassed. ‘What are you doing back here? Did you find out the goblin’s name?’

‘We most certainly did,’ Sparks said, puffing out his chest with pride. ‘You’ll never guess what it is …’

‘No! We won’t!’ she shouted. ‘That’s sort of the whole point, Sparks. What are you waiting for?’

To be fair, she had been trapped in the house all day and was very, very impatient to get out.

‘Calm down, calm down,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m getting to that. His name is—’

‘Don’t you dare!’ screeched the goblin, tearing round the corner on a little electric scooter. It was amazing what you could get your hands on when you had bags and bags of ill-gotten gold.

‘Don’t you say it!’ he bawled as he launched himself from the scooter on to Sparks’s back, trying desperately to wrap his arms round his muzzle. Sparks kicked and barked and bucked and howled, but the goblin was much stronger than he looked and refused to let go.

‘If you keep quiet,’ he bargained, hanging on for dear life as Sparks attempted to toss him off his back, ‘I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.’

‘All I want is you off my back!’ the dog barked, running round and round and round in mad circles until the goblin flew through the air and landed – – right in front of his own front door.

‘Your name is Rumpelstiltskin!’ Sparks shouted. ‘Now open the door and let Cinders and Hansel go free!’

The goblin looked at Sparks, he looked at Mouse, he looked at Hansel and he looked at Cinders. And then he laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’ Cinders asked, yanking the door handle with all her might. It didn’t even start to budge. ‘You said you’d let me go if I learned your name. Well, I’ve learned it and now you have to let me out.’

‘Yes, I do remember saying that,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied. ‘But I also remember trapping you in my house and making you wish up piles of gold. Do those sound like the actions of a goblin who is planning to keep his promises?’

Cinders gasped. Everyone knew that there was nothing in the world worse than breaking a promise.

‘Letting you go would be silly,’ the goblin went on, before dropping to the ground and busting out a pretty good breakdancing routine. ‘So you can go around shouting my name as much as you like, but I’m not going to let you go. I’m Rumpelstiltskin and I’m the cleverest goblin that ever there was.’

‘I think we both know that isn’t true, Rumpy.’

Cinders peeped past the dancing goblin, squinting to see just who was talking. Short, red-haired, sparkly wings … it couldn’t be.

‘Cinderella? What are you doing in a goblin’s house, you absolute plonker?’

Yes, it was definitely her.

‘Brian!’ Cinders cheered. ‘I am so glad to see you!’