Back in her room, Isabelle prepared to grovel. She brushed her hair and pulled on her nicest skirt. She ripped the plastic wrapping off her fairy godmother books, gathered them up, and walked down the hall until she stood in front of her sister’s door. Then she knocked. “Are you in there, sweetest, smartest, most wonderful, most beautiful, greatest fairy godmother ever?” Flattery worked on Clotilda. “Can I ask you a question? It’s really very important.”

Clotilda opened her door and told her to sit down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I saw everything through the spyglass. Grandmomma can’t say you didn’t try.”

“Try” was one way to put this total disaster of a day.

Isabelle refused to let her sister see her cry. “Nora’s miserable! And it’s because of me.” She steadied her chin in what she considered a brave sort of way. “And don’t tell me it’s because she’s a regular girl. It’s not! She’s just serious. But she’s good, too. And nice. She wants to make the world a better place. She deserves to be happy.”

Clotilda dabbed her eye with a hankie. “That is just so beautiful, Isabelle. I didn’t think it was possible, but you have come to care about your regular girl.”

Isabelle wished she’d stop calling Nora a regular girl. Nora was not regular. But now wasn’t the time. “The problem is she doesn’t know what she wants to wish for,” she said in her sweetest voice possible. “What would you have done for Melody if she hadn’t known?”

Now Clotilda looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, what would you have done if Melody had wished for something you couldn’t grant?” When she saw that Clotilda didn’t think this was possible, she added, “Hypothetically, of course. That would never happen to you, since you are such an amazing fairy godmother and would never get stuck in a total pickle like me.”

Clotilda still looked puzzled, but Isabelle could see she appreciated the compliment. “You must be overthinking this. Grandmomma would never have given you a practice princess you couldn’t make happy.”

Isabelle agreed with this in theory. “And yet, even though I’ve visited her way too many times, she hasn’t wished for anything that I can make come true.”

Clotilda patted her on the back. “Well, you must be overlooking something. That’s all there is to it,” she said. “Have you looked in the Wish List? Or your rule book?”

Isabelle had to come clean. “I never read the book,” she mumbled.

Clotilda shook her head but didn’t look surprised. “Didn’t I warn you …” she started to say, but then (thankfully) she stopped. “Well then, we can’t worry about that now. All that matters is that you are smart and strong and care about Nora. And you don’t have a lot of time. Tell me everything about her. There has to be something you’re missing.”

As Isabelle described Nora and everything they’d done, Clotilda rifled through the book. Isabelle hoped there was a chapter on unusual princesses. Or princesses who liked nature but didn’t care about dresses. Or fairy godmothers who didn’t read the book and still made it through training.

Then Isabelle remembered Nora’s box. And the picture of her mother. And she felt even worse, if that was possible.

“What’s the point of pretending? I’m just like Mom. I might as well give up now and turn in my wand.”

“Over my perfect princess.” Clotilda clamped her hand over Isabelle’s mouth until she promised to be quiet. “Listen, I should have told you this before, but our mother was not all bad. Even when that stupid princess wasn’t happy, she kept trying. She loved her almost as much as she loved us. If you’re like her, that’s a good thing. And she would be very proud of you right now.”

It was the sappiest, nicest thing Clotilda had ever said!

Clotilda peeked outside her bedroom door to make sure Grandmomma wasn’t snooping around. “Let’s start from the beginning. What have you tried so far?”

Isabelle told her about the rabbit. And the questions. “You can’t just tell me what to do?”

“Sorry.”

“She’s really mad.”

Clotilda did not agree. “Are you sure? Did she tell you never to come back?”

“No.”

“Then she’s not mad. She’s just hurt. And in the regular world, that means she wants you to come back and try again. And that means there’s still hope. Give her a little time to cool down, then bright and early tomorrow show up and apologize. Forget about the Extravaganza for now. And this time, focus. Listen to her. You’re my little sister, and I know you can fix this!”