“Could you say that again, dear? I didn’t quite catch it the first time,” The shopkeeper had said, her eyes sparkling with an eager light.

“This is my first time at a ren faire,” Rebecca had replied, a bit absently, as she gawked at the odds and ends the little tent store had to offer. Little medieval puppets, clothes and costume pieces, tchotchkes and souvenirs. Items that looked aged but ageless.

“No, no, the second thing you said. I want to hear you say it again.”

“Oh, just that I was recommended that I say yes to everything. Contests, games, roleplaying, anything at all.” Rebecca had said. She loved costumes and cosplay, and had dressed up for this in a handmade jester outfit, which had already been a hit, especially with its dancing and jingling bells. The shopkeeper had taken immediate interest in her the moment she stepped a curly toed shoe into the tent.

“And…have you been following this advice?” There had been a distinct hopefulness that Rebecca remembered in the shopkeeper’s question. She might have recognized it sooner.

“Oh yeah! It’s been a blast.”

The shopkeeper grinned delightedly, and Rebecca had thought that meant she was excited that Rebecca had been having such a good time. In hindsight, it had been more of a predatory delight. The shopkeeper had brushed her finger behind her ears – her pointed, faerie ears that Rebecca commented looked so real.

“Then, what say you, mortal, to a contest? What say you to standing in yonder box? What say you to becoming, of your own free will and accord, one of my wares with a price tag? What say you, that if you make it the rest of the day in such a state, that you shall win a prize of your choosing from among my vast inventory and great ability?”

Rebecca had done a double take, certain that the glass and wood display case had not been there before. But it must have been there; a case like that couldn’t simply appear. “So, what you’re saying is, if I stand in that box for the rest of the day, you’ll give me anything in your store for free?” She had wanted to be clear, because the fae were known for their tricky language, and the woman was pretending to be fae.

“You’re wise to ask for clarity, methinks. But the contest asks you to stand in the case, and thereby become a saleable object in my inventory, with all the implications and obligations thereof. And, should you succeed, you might also ask for a boon.” She had fluffed up one of Rebecca’s deflated puff shoulders. “A gift of sewing, perhaps.”

The jester had, to her credit, thought about it. “I want to, but four hours is a long time to stand, even in these shoes. And kinda sweaty.”

“Would you desire it more, that I soften your form, that I clothify your skin, that might make it easier to withstand the trial of the day? To make it easier upon yourself to receive my gift? Should you, of course, win?”

Rebecca had searched the woman’s words for a trick, not realizing that the truth was the trap. The shopkeeper couldn’t, of course actually sell her. So the contest was really all about the stamina to stand in place in a box and to withstand the gawks and interests of customers.

“Yes, I’ll do it.” Rebecca had said firmly and definitively. She hadn’t remembered stepping into the display case, only finding herself within it. Finding herself separated by a pane of glass that muffled the world outside. The shopkeeper had, true to her word, done something to Rebecca’s body, and had made it far easier to stand without tiring.

As the day had progressed, more and stranger visitors came to the shopkeeper’s tent. A crowned green goblin, an iridescent-winged woman, a cat in the shape of a man, and more. These especially took interest in Rebecca. They had haggled and bargained with the shopkeeper, who had glanced at the jester with many a smile. It took hours for Rebecca to realize that the woman really did mean to sell her, and when she had, the fool knew she should leave the display. But the door seemed so far away, so heavy to move, and besides, she had agreed to this.

Rebecca sighed; what a fool she had been.