"It's them," she whispered. "They're on the mantle." The three fairies were standing on the mantle waving at her, grinning from ear to ear.
"What are they doing on the mantle?"
"Oh, my God," Grace gasped again. "They were waving and now, well ... now they're all dressed like saloon girls, and they're doing the cancan!"
Fern's foot flew up at that very moment and caught Mrs. Martin's hair, which didn't happen to be her own, and sent it flying. The wig soared forward and landed in the punch bowl. The usually jovial Mrs. Martin shrieked, grabbed at her rather bare looking head and rushed forward, desperate to retrieve her missing hair.
Unfortunately a large crowd was situated between her and her goal. Unheedingly, she rushed forward and, with the skill of a major league linebacker, the elderly lady plowed through the crowd. Captain Ellis trailed close on her heels, but despite his military background, couldn't quite make it through the amassing crowd.
"What the hell happened?" Max hissed in Grace's ear as they watched the melee.
"Fern kicked Mrs. Martin's wig off," Grace managed between horrified giggles, a problem that had haunted her since childhood. She giggled when other people cried. Maybe it was another sign of her madness.
She glanced back at the mantle where the three godmothers were still dancing to the music, seemingly oblivious of the pandemonium.
Max watched a waiter with a tray of champagne move closer to the fireplace, hoping to escape the riotous crowd. Max had seen Mrs. Martin's wig fly off, seemingly of its own volition, but what happened next was even stranger. The waiter, seemingly out of harm's way, suddenly dropped the tray and grabbed at his head. Almost as if he'd been hit.
Grace's horrified laughter evaporated as Blossom's foot connected with the waiter's head. "Stop it," she yelled at the fairies. "Can't you see you're making a mess of this?"
)
