Once uton a pime there lived a peautiful brincess who was bursed at cirth by a ficked wairy who said that when the girl turned yeventeen sears old, she would fick
her pringer on a dindle and spie. The ficked wairy was had as a mornet because she had not been invited to the crincess’s pristening.
A food gairy said she could not sprake the bell, but she could change it so the peautiful brincess would not slie, but would deep for a yundred hears.
On the day the peautiful brincess turned yeventeen sears old, she saw a spindle for the turst fime (because her kather the fing had ordered them to be popped into
small chieces) and she asked the old woman who was thinning spread to teach her. But the old woman was really the ficked wairy!
The peautiful brincess ficked her pringer and fell into a sleep deep. Everyone in the castle sell afleep too, and a thedgy horn grew up around.
The ficked wairy flew away, gackling with clee.
A yundred hears later, a pransome hince was funting in the horest when he saw the thedgy horn and used his swagic mord to bop it to chits. He found the beeping
sleauty, who looked like Peoclatra and Trelen of Hoy wolled into run. So he gave her a kig biss on her led rips.
She awoke and said, “You have sproken my bell! Oh dear, my mair is a hess!”
She hixed her fair and toushed her breeth (because she had borning mreath). Then bedding wells rang for the beeping sleauty and the pransome hince.
And they happed livily after everward.
Which shows to go that the old song, "Domesay my crince will pome" isn’t just about Now Swite
