Queen: Slave in the magic mirror, come from the farthest space,
through wind and darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face.
Magic Mirror: What wouldst thou know, my Queen?
Queen: Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?
It wasn't a "Snow White" mirror, of course, since no one spoke back to me despite my conjuring. All I saw was my own round, freckled face peering back at me.
But it certainly looked like the mirror that the wicked Queen questioned in the faery tale.
When my grandmother passed away, my aunt asked if there was anything of hers I would like.
"Her Snow White mirror!" I said, knowing she would know immediately what I meant.
At times I have been tempted to paint it... perhaps a soft white for more of a cottage look. But then, you see, it would no long be the Snow White mirror. And so it remains as it was. Gilded, baroque, perhaps a bit forbidding, and magic in its own way.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who is the fairest one of all?