Shortly after breakfast Shrek and Fiona exited the castle. Shrek had her wait at the foot of the front steps while he went to retrieve their carriage. When he returned several minutes later, Fiona was shocked to see him sitting in an ornate open-top carriage made of stylishly varnished cherry wood and garnished with solid gold trim. Instead of a dwarf in simple clothes, the driver was an attractive young man in a spotless military uniform, and he drove a team of two magnificent white stallions. (Neither of which, Fiona noted, was Donkey.)

"What’s all this?" she asked, frowning.

"It’s a conveyance fit for a princess," Shrek answered, smiling. He opened the carriage door facing her, stepped down, then bowed gracefully and held it open as he motioned for her to step inside.

Fiona grinned briefly at the chivalrous gesture, despite her irritation at his selection of this unexpectedly gaudy mode of transportation; especially one with no top and hence no privacy. She had rather liked the cozy seclusion of the onion carriage, and after her experience the last time exiting it she was is no hurry to expose herself to crowds again, even in human form. Nevertheless, she bowed back to Shrek and then stepped up into the carriage. She noted that he was wearing a sword now, an accoutrement that she had not thought suited him before, but which now seemed somehow to fit.

As Fiona was settling into her seat, Shrek stepped back into the carriage, slid into the seat beside her, and shut the door. "Did you see Donkey?" she asked as Shrek ran his hands across the sides of his hair, apparently to make sure the activity hadn’t mussed it.

The question seemed to confuse Shrek for a moment, then recognition dawned on his face and he said, "Oh! Uh, no, actually, I didn’t."

Fiona frowned. "That’s strange. He was here earlier. I would have thought he’d want to tag along with us, like he always does. Even as a stallion."

Shrek shrugged. "I’m sure he’s fine, wherever he is." After a moment, he smirked and added, "Perhaps he’s somewhere in the royal stables socializing with the fillies."

Fiona chuckled and responded, "Well, I don’t know if Dragon would appreciate that!"

Shrek’s face took on an even more confused expression, which he quickly tried to hide. Fiona was about to ask him about that when a voice from just outside her side of the carriage asked, "Are you ready to depart, Your Highnesses?"

Fiona gave a small shriek of surprise and turned in the direction of the voice, only to nearly give another shriek when she found herself facing a tall, broad shouldered knight on horseback. The knight wore an impressive suit of finely polished armor except for the top half of the visor of his helmet; that was made of dark glass which completely hid his eyes. She found it disconcerting.

"I’m sorry, Princess," the knight apologized. "I didn’t mean to startle you." His tone was polite enough, but he spoke with a gravelly voice that sounded like nothing so much as a loud, rasping whisper. Something about it made Fiona think of controlled restraint of a nature more attuned to action than decorum.

"Oh, no, that’s quite all right," Fiona eventually said after catching her breath. "But … who are you?"

"I’m Sir Hoariman, head of your security detail," he responded, and then gestured around the carriage. Fiona followed his gesture to see that there were three other tall, solidly built knights now surrounding the carriage: one on the opposite side, one in front, and one in back. They were likewise armored and wearing dark glass visors.

"Oh, really now!" Shrek objected. "I don’t think we need –"

"I’m sorry, Your Highness, but King’s orders," Hoariman said in a tone that sounded respectful but also brooked no argument. "He wants to make sure you two remain safe."

Shrek sighed. "Very well," he huffed. "If the king insists. But I’m perfectly capable of taking care of both of us."

"I’m sure you are, Your Highness, under most circumstances," Hoariman agreed. "But you never know when an unexpected, coordinated threat may strike, one that no single man can handle, however brave or skilled. That’s the reason for the detail, sir. A man’s got to know his limitations." The knight then held the heel of his gauntlet up to his visor and muttered into it. "I’ve got Sunflower and Angelface bundled in the package. Beginning transit." He then nodded to the carriage’s driver to start.

Fiona allowed herself a wry grin as the carriage began moving. With his little outburst of irritation and wounded pride, Shrek was finally starting to remind her of his old self. However, he then mumbled something under his breath; Fiona wasn’t sure she heard it quite right amidst the noises of the squeaking carriage wheels and clopping horse hooves, but it sounded like, "When I become king, he’d best show more respect."

"What did you say?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh … uh … I, uh, said ‘Concern from the king, it’s just what you’d expect’," Shrek replied uneasily, and smiled a tepid smile.

Not quite convinced, Fiona raised her eyebrow even further. Shrek looked away, and seemed to be casting about for something to divert her attention elsewhere. He soon found it. "Ah, behold, Fiona!" he said. "Your subjects have already started to gather!"

Fiona looked toward the gate where Shrek was motioning. Several of the townspeople were gathered there and pointing to their carriage. After spotting the royal couple they started chatting excitedly among themselves, every so often throwing another glance the royals’ way.

Fiona sighed. "News travels fast," she observed.

"Well … actually … I helped it along," Shrek confessed. "I send some heralds just ahead of us to spread word that one of the Fairy Godmother’s potions had restored you back to your beautiful self and you’d be traveling into town with your new prince."

"You didn’t!" Fiona gasped, staring at the people by the gate and imagining the much larger crowds that the carriage would now be encountering when they entered town center.

"But they deserve to know, Fiona!" Shrek argued. "I mean, they all saw us as ogres when we arrived. It’s best to let them know the good news that we’re more acceptable now, and the crown of the kingdom is no longer in danger of being inherited by beasts."

She jerked her head towards him. "I didn’t think you cared about what such people thought of us," she said.

"Ummm … well, of course I don’t! That is, not about me. It’s what they think about you that matters, dearest. And look there!" Shrek gestured toward a small group of young women, glancing between themselves and the carriage. They were smiling, apparently energized by the presence of the royal pair, and kept chattering away non-stop. "Don’t you enjoy the reaction you inspire now more than those bitter, shocked faces the day we arrived?"

"I suppose," Fiona sighed, although it seemed to her that the females were paying more attention to Shrek than to herself. And judging by the way Shrek smiled and waved to them as the carriage passed, their attentions didn’t escape him, either.

"Well, we might as well give ‘em what they want, eh?" Shrek said, almost haughtily and … was that a wink she saw him throw the women’s way?

As Fiona feared, they passed more and larger groups of people as they wound their way towards downtown Far Far Away. Eventually the groups merged into throngs and then one continuous crowd as they entered the outskirts of the business district with its many shops and attractions. People were lined on either side of the street, in some places two or three rows deep, and greeted the carriage with what appeared to be enthusiasm, waving and smiling – sometimes even shouting or applauding – with apparently genuine warmth.

But Fiona knew better. She recognized too many faces from their arrival at the castle two days earlier, when she and Shrek had stepped out of the onion carriage and onto the red carpet that had been laid out for them and surrounded by hordes of these same people; these people that Fiona had so hoped would welcome their long-departed princess and her precious husband, her rescuer, her brave green knight – the ogre that meant the world to her and whom she wanted to share with the world. She had wanted to prove to him that not all humans could be so ignorantly judgmental, and to allow him to bask in the gratitude he deserved, to let this person who had been so hurt for so long by people who dismissed him as a ‘big, stupid, ugly ogre’ to experience something different. They had had a taste of altered perceptions back in Duloc, when Shrek had proven his mettle in rescuing her from Farquaad and in the process freeing that province from its miniature tyrant. The acceptance shown to the ogres after Farquaad was dispatched and they declared their love to each other, kissed and broke the ‘curse’ before the whole town had surprised them both and led Fiona to believe that such reactions were a magical part of her ‘happily ever after’. Yes, there were still occasional gangs of disgruntled peasants, but such persons suffered their own curses: ignorance and fear. But Far Far Away was Fiona’s home, and so surely her happily ever after must extend here. Here she had wanted Shrek to feel welcome, at home, part of the family. Yet when the two ogres stepped out of that carriage they had both been made to feel anything but welcome, and her fairytale delusions abruptly shattered. She still recalled the shocked gasps, the big awkward silence, and those faces; some simply stunned, some horrified, some hateful, and some vitriolic and downright threatening.

Now, as the human princess and prince rode through town in their royal conveyance, Fiona saw many of those same faces, but now they were smiling at her and calling her name triumphantly. What had Fiona and Shrek done to deserve this reversal of reaction? Nothing. Nothing but make themselves more ‘presentable’ – to trade in their true selves for facades that the public found palatable to their preconceptions and prejudices.

A part of Fiona felt grateful in a way. Had she arrived in Far Far Away as a human, and the people had reacted as they were now, she would likely have mistaken their reaction for sincere, heartfelt adulation. Instead, her experience two days before now allowed her to see past their own facades, and what she saw there she didn’t like. It made her wiser, but it was a wisdom born of pain.

Sweet Heaven, how she wanted to be back in the swamp right then.

Fiona looked over at Shrek. He was still smiling and waving to the people that lined the street on his side of the carriage. She noted that many of the women that beheld him, like the group they had passed early in this procession, seemed more … sincere in their … appreciation of their gorgeous new prince. Despite her personal distress, Fiona felt another wry grin break upon her lips. True form or not, this was surely a new experience for the former ogre, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying it, protestations of charades notwithstanding. She felt glad that he was able to experience some of this, despite its superficiality – it no doubt offset a little of the pain of the many rejections he had suffered due to his superficial appearance over the years. Fiona did find it odd that she didn’t feel more jealously over the females’ attentions to her husband. Was she that secure in their relationship? She would liked to have thought so, and so tried to convince herself that that was what it was, and so placate yet another nagging uncertainty: that instead of it being security she felt, could it instead be … indifference? No, that was silly. Fiona loved Shrek. Indifference? Fiona cast the absurd thought aside. Or at least, she tried to.

As Shrek continued looking out over the crowd on his side of the carriage, Fiona noticed that the back of his hair was mussed. She reached over with one hand and ran her fingers through that part of his hair to straighten it.

Shrek turned back towards her. "Why, Fiona! You surprise me!" he said, cocking an eyebrow suggestively with an amorous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, no!" Fiona protested. "I was just –"

"No need to explain, darling," Shrek said confidently, almost smugly. "It’s perfectly understandable."

With that, Shrek reached over, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Fiona opened her mouth to say that he’d gotten the wrong impression, only to find him pressing his own mouth to hers in a kiss. Apparently mistaking her open mouth for an invitation, Shrek slid his tongue within it. Fiona almost gagged. She started to push him away, but his embrace was too tight. She’d have to exert considerably more pressure to break it, and that might make for an even worse impression. She didn’t want to make him think she was rejecting him; and she certainly didn’t want to embarrass him, not with so many watching. Around her the crowd’s cheers and applause was augmented with several whoops and hoots of varying degrees of mischievousness. Fiona felt trapped, both figuratively by the crowd and physically within her husband’s embrace – an embrace, she realized guiltily, that she should be welcoming. Goodness knew there were enough other women watching them right now who’d die to have a chance to be where she was, just as so many men had died storming Dragon’s castle to be where Shrek sat now.

Fiona heaved an inward sigh. Why did she continue to fight this? What within her continued to protest? What she had with her husband the ogre was gone. Her future now lay with the man who was embracing her. She realized the irony of having come full circle; for so many years, she had imagined a scene like this, looking just as she did now, with a man who looked just as Shrek did now. She had thought then that this would make her the happiest woman in the world. Fiona again tried to cast her futile misgivings aside. She closed her eyes and draped her arms around Shrek, pulling him towards her and returning his kiss in kind. It was not an … unpleasant sensation. Although Fiona still could not conjure forth the depths of emotion she had felt before Shrek’s transformation, she was still a woman, and his embrace and kiss were starting to provoke physical reactions within her that had nothing to do with higher emotions like love. Was that to be her life, then? Superficial appearances, superficial behavior, superficial adulation, and superficial pleasures? Would nothing else again reach her heart but pain and regret?

Fiona felt the pleasure of the kiss souring. It was time to end it. It had lasted too long, anyway; after all, decorum among royals must be maintained, she thought with bitter irony. She opened her eyes.

Then she saw him. There he was, standing behind two rows of cheering, hooting townspeople, his back against a building.

It was the dark-haired stranger; the one she had spotted from her balcony.

Fiona wasn’t sure why she recognized him so quickly. She had seen him from so far away before. But for some reason that she didn’t understand, she was absolutely certain it was the same man.

Now that she saw him so much closer – only ten yards or so separated them at that moment – she couldn’t help but admire his appearance. Long wavy locks, a cute button nose, a wide, square jaw, broad chest and shoulders, and a firm and trim but not too thin waist, he was in his way as handsome as the new Shrek. But whereas the new Shrek’s looks were more refined, the stranger’s contours were more rugged, more like a blacksmith or woodsman or someone else more in tune with nature, closer to … well, closer to Shrek, frankly; at least the Shrek that was.

As soon as Fiona saw him her eyes locked with his – his brown eyes, she noted, the same hue as her husband’s former ogrid self – and she felt herself suddenly stop breathing. He stared back directly at her, taking in the sight of her and her prince in their seemingly passionate embrace and kiss. The stranger’s reaction was unlike that of any of the other townspeople. There was not a shred of happiness about the man. In fact, his face looked pallid and grief-stricken, as if he’d lost everything that made his life worth living. Fiona felt herself freeze, still locked in the embrace and kiss which she no longer felt, as she stared at the stranger. The only thing that Fiona did feel was her heartbeat, which inexplicably became faster and stronger. The stranger stared back for a few seconds more, then cast his eyes downward, turned, and began walking away, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. As he walked, Fiona couldn’t help but notice his taught round –

Something instinctual suddenly kicked in, and Fiona shoved Shrek away from her, breaking both the kiss and the embrace. Had Fiona still the strength of an ogress, this human Shrek would have been tossed from the carriage. As it was, he ended up bumping against the door on his side of the conveyance. Shrek stared back at her, aghast, as the dark-haired stranger – oblivious to the activity in the carriage behind him – rounded a corner and disappeared down an alleyway.

"Fiona!" Shrek gasped, stunned by her action along with a goodly number of townspeople, whose cheers and whoops quickly receded into surprised gasps of their own. "What on earth …"

At first Fiona was oblivious to their reactions. For several moments she just stared at the point where the stranger had disappeared. She had not only started breathing again, her breath was now coming in short, shallow pants, and her heartbeat now felt as if it had doubled its normal pace. Embarrassed and confused, Shrek followed her gaze. "What’s wrong?" he asked. "Did you see something that upset you? Some sort of threat?" His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword.

Fiona slowly shifted her gaze towards the man sitting beside her. "Huh?" she asked, her eyes glassy, her expression vacant, her thoughts unclear. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or why seeing the stranger should have set her heart and mind so aflutter. There was something about the stranger’s face, especially the eyes – about the way he looked at her, almost within her – something that touched her at level far deeper than mere consciousness. For the briefest of moments Fiona had the unsettling, illogical sensation that the stranger was less of – well, a stranger to her – than her transformed husband. "Uh, no," Fiona finally managed to say as she forced herself back to the here and now. "I just –"

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Fiona now heard Sir Hoariman, still riding at the head of the carriage, ask as he looked back. "Is there a problem with the crowd?" Like her husband, the knight’s hand went to the hilt of his sword as his dark visor turned in the direction of the crowd where Fiona had spied the stranger. The princess felt a bit exasperated. What was it with such macho human males, anyway? Always anxious to whip out their long, sharp swords at the least provocation. It was as if they were trying to compensate for something.

"I’m fine, really I am," Fiona said. "It was … it wasn’t anybody I saw, particularly," she lied, suddenly feeling protective of the stranger, afraid that Hoariman or his men might pursue him should she say otherwise. She then turned back to Shrek and added, more truthfully, "I really don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I … didn’t mean to embarrass you."

This time it was Shrek’s turn to lift an eyebrow as he regarded her quizzically. A moment later, however, his face resumed that self-confident smile. "That’s quite all right, dearest," he said smoothly. "The important thing is that you’re okay now." He then reached both hands towards her, intending to take her shoulders.

Something else instinctual kicked in, and Fiona quickly shifted in her seat, turning so that she was no longer facing Shrek but rather facing forward, and thrust her back flat against the backrest. She then crossed her arms, afraid that Shrek might try to take her hand otherwise.

"Fiona!" Shrek gasped again, sounding more that a bit exasperated himself.

Fiona blushed. She had surprised herself almost as much as she had surprised Shrek. She felt a bit of guilt … but did not change her posture. Instead, she turned her head towards him. "I’m sorry," she said again. "I just … I need a few moments … to pull myself together."

Shrek silently beheld her for several seconds, a perturbed expression on his face. He then rubbed his chin and seemed to think for a short while, his eyes still on her, his stare increasingly discomforting. Then that smile returned to his face, and he said, "That’s all right, darling. Take as much time as you need. I’m a patient man. But if you’d like to confide in me, please do so. I’d like to share your burdens with you, Fiona. Your burdens, your joys, your concerns, your thoughts – I’d like to share them all with you, my love. I’d like to share everything with you. You just need to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you, Fiona?"

"Of course," she replied, perhaps a half-beat too slow.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Well … I … just need a little time."

She offered him a smile which she hoped was reassuring but feared came across as weak. She then stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the perplexed gaze she felt boring into her.

"Whoa!" Sir Hoariman ordered from up ahead. The carriage came to an abrupt halt as Fiona prayed a silent thanks for the interruption. "We’re here, your Highnesses," the knight rasped, gesturing to the store just off Shrek’s side of the carriage. The royal couple followed his motion to see an impressively maintained storefront underneath a sign written in large incursive letters that said, LORDS’ TAILORS, and in smaller print just beneath that, said, Providing the finest in royal and noble continental-influenced apparel since 1066.

"Excellent!" Shrek exclaimed, then squeezing Fiona’s shoulder said, "We’ll soon have something for you to wear tonight that does proper credit to your beauty, my dearest."

Fiona looked over at him and again smiled wanly. Shrek kissed her forehead, then released her and exited the carriage on his side as the security knight on Fiona’s side dismounted and then opened the door for her. She stepped out as Shrek came around to meet her. Her husband bowed his head and offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. She took it, and they began moving back around the front of the carriage. Suddenly, Fiona halted and gave a little gasp. From up ahead she’d seen a most unexpected but welcome sight. Out from a pet supply shop on the opposite side of the street from where she’d seen the stranger, and some fifteen yards in front of her carriage, stepped the white stallion that was now Donkey and, walking beside him, that oddly dressed orange cat. Donkey looked down at the feline with some consternation. The cat seemed unmindful of him as he glanced about warily and ran a paw inside one of his boots as if secreting something there.

"Look, Shrek!" Fiona said, and was about to call Donkey’s name when she heard, also from up ahead of their procession, a nasally, shrill, upper-crust voice calling out, "Thieves! Bandits! Rrrruffians! Please help!"

The voice was emanating from a coach, pulled by two brown horses, that was coming down the street the opposite direction from which the royals’ carriage had come. The voice also drew the rapt attention of Donkey and the cat. They stared at the approaching coach, their faces frozen in fright, for a brief moment. Then the feline leapt upon Donkey’s back as the stallion quickly whirled and, like the stranger earlier, disappeared down an alleyway. It all happened too quickly and too confusingly, and they were gone before Fiona was able to recover her wherewithal to call to her equine friend.

Sir Hoariman, who had dismounted along with the rest of the knights, held up a hand as the coach came within a few yards. "HALT!" he commanded. The driver of the coach quickly did so, pulling back on the reins, the horses whinnying in protest at the abruptness.

A head popped out of a window of the coach. It appeared to be that of a man in his late fifties or so, with a short salt-and-pepper moustache and a tuft of hair under his chin similar to the king’s. He was wearing a white powdered wig, but it was set askew on his head, plus some of the hair on one side was tousled.

"Knights!" the man exclaimed. "Oh, thank Heaven!" He then opened the coach door and leapt out. He was a short, somewhat stocky man, dressed as a noble, with a maroon felt pullover shirt adorned with a silver chain along the neckline and gold-colored sleeves. He also wore short dark-olive pants and stockings. The shirt and pants, however, didn’t quite fit, being a tad too large and a bit lumpy. He bounded towards the group. As he came closer, Fiona saw that his wig was strewn with small twigs and a couple of tiny leaves.

"STOP!" Sir Hoariman ordered, interposing himself along with another of the knights between the man and the royals as the noble came within a few feet. Fiona felt Shrek slip an arm around her waist; she glanced over at him and saw him studying the noble warily, a frown on his face.

"Sir," Hoariman began to explain to the noble, "this is the party of Princess Fiona and her – "

"The princess!" the noble exclaimed, then looked over at her. "Oh, I heard you had returned!" he gushed, then gave a respectful and courtly if hurried bow before continuing. "I fear I must report, Your Highness, that your forests are not safe! My son and I were traveling here to attend your wedding ball tonight when we were rudely and ignominiously accosted by a gang of brigands! The scoundrels staged an accident and robbed us when we stopped to help! Oh, to have one’s good nature taken advantage of with such unabashed audacity! They forced me at swordpoint to remove my clothes, and then their leader – a burly brute – pulled them on and stretched them all out of shape!" Here the noble indicated his now ill-fitting outfit. He then raised the back of his hand to his forehead, rolled his eyes upward, and moaned, "Oh, the humiliation! I don’t know if I shall ever recover!"

"Please calm down, sir," Hoariman said evenly. "Now, how much money did they steal?"

"Money?" the noble asked, dropping his hand and seeming to make an effort to descend from his moment of despair. "They took no money. They took –"

"My clothes!" a new voice sounded indignantly from the coach. Everyone looked in that direction to see another head poking out of the carriage window. This time it was a man of about thirty, with long black hair and goatee. He bore a similar appearance and build to the older noble but was noticeably larger. Fiona assumed that this was the son that the noble had referred to. From the part of his upper body jutting through the window, it was apparent that he was in his long underwear. There were a few snickers from the sizeable crowd that still lined that side of the street, and the man looked about him, suddenly became self conscious, smiled sheepishly, and then drew back within the coach, his face blushing red as he did so.

"Clothes?" Fiona, puzzled, whispered to Shrek. "Why would anyone rob a nobleman just for clothes?"

"I’m sure I don’t know, darling," Shrek whispered back, his expression reflecting similar perplexity. "I’m sure –" Suddenly Shrek’s face took on a look of realization, and then – was that fear?

"What’s wrong? What is it?" Fiona asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing," he stammered. "I … uh … I just hope this isn’t a trick!" He then looked suspiciously at everyone around them and his hand again went to the hilt of his sword. "Something to divert our attention."

"Oh, please, don’t be so paranoid," Fiona said, finding it ironic that she should criticize him about being paranoid the way she was feeling that day.

"But they left clues!" the noble was now saying to Hoariman. "They left a bottle! Let me show you!" He then turned and began bounding back to the coach.

Shrek sucked in a short, sudden breath as the noble returned to his coach. Fiona was curious about Shrek’s reaction, but she was more curious as to why the excitable little man was so anxious to show this bottle. As he reached the side of the vehicle, the younger man briefly reached out and handed it to him. It was constructed of lightly blue-tinted glass, with a nearly circular body and a neck a few inches long. There was some sort of label on it. Fiona guessed its capacity at a pint or two. The older noble began bouncing back to Hoariman, holding the bottle before him with both hands. Suddenly the nobleman’s stretched pants dropped from his waist down to his feet, exposing his own undergarments. The man tripped over the pants, falling forward onto the street. He caught his fall with his arms, but as he did so the bottle flew out of his hands. It soared over the heads of Hoariman and the other knight and began descending right where Fiona was standing. She reached out to catch it, but just before she did so Shrek wrapped his arm further around her waist and jerked her away, causing her to utter a little shriek. The bottle struck the cobblestones, shattering the glass and tearing the label.

"HEY!" Fiona looked at him angrily. "Why –"

"I … was trying to protect you, dearest," Shrek stammered. "There might have been something in that bottle, something dangerous that might have splashed on you or … who knows what dreadful thing might have happened? You really shouldn’t be so trusting of strangers."

Meanwhile, the noble was getting to his feet. "Oh, blast," he moaned, looking over at the pile of shards that was the bottle as he pulled his pants back up. Then his face brightened again. "But they left something else! The leader’s old discarded clothes! I have them in the coach. Let me show them to you … they’re of the most unusual materials and si–"

"Sir Hoariman!" Shrek called loudly and, it seemed to Fiona, with a bit of nervousness. "This thievery is a bit outside of your purview, is it not? Perhaps the gentlemen should be directed to local law enforcement for a proper investigation into this matter?"

Hoariman turned back towards Shrek, the knight’s eyes and expression, as ever, hidden by the dark glass. After a moment, the knight said, "Excellent point, Your Highness." Hoariman then turned to the knight beside him and said, "Give this man directions to the constabulary, then resume your post outside the shop." The knight nodded and began speaking to the noble as Hoariman turned and began striding to the royals.

"Well," Shrek said, smiling at Fiona, "now that that little diversion is over, let’s do what we came for, eh?"

"I suppose," Fiona said without enthusiasm.

Fiona was casting one last glance back at the noble as he received directions from the knight when she heard an oddly intoned female voice say, "Well, welcome, your Highnesses, to my humble establishment." At least, Fiona thought it was a female voice, one with a peculiar accent that sounded part German and part something oriental.

Fiona turned toward the storefront of LORDS’ TAILORS, expecting to find herself facing the person who had just spoken. But she saw no one in her immediate vicinity. "What the?" the princess stuttered.

"Ahem, down here, dahling," the voice came again. Fiona looked down and was startled to see a woman some three feet tall staring up at her with an expression of slight annoyance. The woman had a wide head topped by thick, black hair that hung down straight and was cut just short of shoulder length. Her head was disproportionately larger than the rest of her body, which was thin and nearly curveless, and adorned in a stylized black dress with scalloped sleeves and horizontally pleated skirt. A pair of large circular dark-rimmed spectacles sat atop her somewhat pudgy, upturned nose, the lenses exaggerating her alert eyes. Those eyes, and the rest of her features, seemed to reflect a mixture of European and eastern Asian derivation.

"Oh!" Fiona gasped, embarrassed. "I’m sorry! I –"

"Don’t worry about it, Your Highness," the woman said, then bowed to the royal couple. "Again, welcome to my establishment. I am the proprietor and chief designer, Edwina. Edwina Vogue."

After the royals returned the bow, Edwina said, "So, I understand there is to be a ball tonight. I assume that you both wish to be fitted into proper attire rather than these …" Edwina regarded the clothes both royals wore with more than apparent distaste "… things you are wearing now?"

"Why, yes!" Shrek said. "We –"

"Come in! Come, come!" Edwina said and, apparently forgetting propriety, turned, snapped her fingers and began striding up the steps towards the store. The royals looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her, flanked by their security detail.

"You have certainly come to the right place, dahlings," Edwina said, her voice puffy with pride. "I’m sure I can guarantee that the people attending your ball tonight will not soon forget what they see!"