Not a quarter of mile up the mountain, we ran into our first potential bride, standing no less than two inches tall, and blushing the most becoming orange. To be perfectly honest, I thought she was such a beauty that I was inclined to propose to her myself, right there on the spot.

Perhaps detecting my amorous intentions, my sister quickly informed the mushroom of our mission as go-betweens for the lucky Poison Pie, Man of the Mushroom People, Hero of the Park, Explorer of the Vast Expanse of Nothingness, Friend to Many, including yours truly.

Always the sensible one, Marie told the mushroom that we couldn't rush to a hasty judgment in matters as important as this one. My sister assured her that she was at the top of our "Brides Too Good To Be True" list, and we proceeded, while the mushroom looked longingly after us, farther into the forest.