“But, that pile of straw is in the cell, with us!”
“Shut up, loser. They want us alive, otherwise they would have killed us already. Once they see the fire, they’ll have to let us out. Then we can make our move!”
“Which would be?”
“Getting out of here, dummy!”
They put her in a cell with that loser, Prince Charming, who she’d come to rescue.
Before the irony became too much to bear, she said, “hand me that spoon.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll use that spoon to reflect that beam of sunlight onto that pile of straw.”
When she came to, she was in a cell, in some dank dungeon.
“Damn,” she muttered, under her breath.
“Thank heavens, you’re awake! But if you’re in here with me, how are we going to get out of here? I’ve been stuck here for weeks, and there’s no way out!”