Snoring filled the cottage. Even with her hands tight against her ears Snow White couldn't block out the cacophony of wheezes and snorts. Chubby was worst; not because he was loudest, but because he would stop breathing for a while and, counting the seconds, she would wait until he grunted and started breathing once more.
Snow White didn't know how her grandmother had managed with seven. Maybe they hadn't snored. Maybe pigs had flown too. The only thing that had changed about the little men was their names. Snow White got up and went downstairs to clean. She might be called Snow White after her grandmother and but she didn't feel much like Snow White, more like Dingy Grey.