There was once a kindly gentleman named Malcolm.
Who lived peacefully on a small estate.
With his daughter Arabella.
The child's mother had passed away when the girl was very little.
So although the man had many lovely memories of his wife,
His daughter knew her.
Only from his stories.
Grrr.
She was beautiful.
And intelligent.
He would tell little Arabella.
All the other fellows in town wished for her hand.
And I was the lucky one.
Who won her heart.
He would reminisce.
The little girl loved hearing about her mother.
Because it made her feel like she knew her.
Even though she was not there to see Arabella grow up.
The gentleman and his daughter.
Lived in a rambling old stone house.
That was just grand enough to entertain a few visitors.
But not so enormous as to be pretentious.
Arabella loved the mansion.
And its gardens.
In particular,
She was extremely fond of a special part of the courtyard.
That had been cared for by her mother.
According to her father.
His bride had loved nature.
She had spent many hours selecting the trees and flowers that would fill her little paradise.
Make it even more enchanting for his love.
Arabella's father had surprised her mother.
With a beautiful fountain.
Pretty stone benches and an arbor.
When his wife wasn't tending to it.
She could often be found reading there for hours on end.
Arabella inherited that love for the sweet little garden.
And she took to spending time there when she wanted to find a quiet spot for reflection.
Or just to feel closer to her mother.
It seemed to her that of all the places on the estate mother's garden had the most delicate flowers,
The most refreshing breezes.
And the most fascinating animal visitors.
She felt most relaxed in that perfect spot.
Just watching the bees as they danced through the blooms or the leaves as they drifted into the fountain.
It was a perfect respite from the world.
Their home was a short distance from other respectable families.
But they didn't tend to go visiting or socializing.
Without a lady of the house to organize such things.
Malcolm found it a bit awkward to go calling on his neighbors.
As a result.
Arabella learned to entertain herself.
She had a faithful little dog named Henry.
Who kept her laughing with his silly antics.
And offered her adoring companionship.
With that,
She was content.
As much as Malcolm's love for his late wife endured.
He did grow a bit lonely.
After many years of life as a widower.
When Arabella was 15.
He began spending time with a widow named Lydia.
Who lived nearby.
She was a very respectable lady.
And handsome.
In a reserved sort of way.
She had two daughters named Agnes and Imogen.
Agnes was seventeen.
And Imogen was almost the same age as Arabella.
Although they were properly educated in the skills expected of young ladies.
Arabella did not find them to be particularly stimulating company.
Where Arabella might like to discuss books or horticulture.
They would prefer local gossip.
Where she might have thoughts to share about music.
They preferred fashion.
Arabella was polite to all of them for her father's sake.
But she secretly found Agnes and Imogen.
A bit tedious.
She reflected with disappointment.
That it was a shame they had so little in common.
Because she would have liked to have had some close friends.
Under these circumstances.
She had to make an effort to appear happy.
When her father brought her the news.
The tea and the idea.
Were to marry.
She and her father were very close.
Having only had each other for company all these years.
And she had mixed feelings about the match.
On one hand.
She genuinely wished for her father's happiness.
On the other.
It would be a new experience for her to share her home.
And her private well.
With three other women.
None of whom seemed to have much in common with her.
Nonetheless,
Arabella smiled bravely for her father.
And congratulated him.
Wishing him joy.
The wedding of a widow and a widower.
Was generally a quiet affair in those days.
The match was privately made.
The lady and her daughters were soon installed at Malcolm's house.
Although there were empty bedrooms available.
Some shuffling of chambers was inevitable.
Arabella found that she felt obligated to politely offer her own room.
Which was one of the largest in the house,
To Agnes.
At 17.
Her new stepsister was,
After all,
The oldest young lady.
Rather than graciously thanking Arabella for the swap.
Agnes seemed to think the larger room was her due.
She unceremoniously moved in.
Spreading her things everywhere.
In a jumble.
Arabella managed to tamp down her own annoyance.
As the new occupant made a mess of her childhood retreat.
Instead,
She tried to focus on making her smaller chamber.
A cozy getaway.
While it wasn't the grandest space in the house.
It had a charming window seat.
That overlooked her mother's garden.
And the furnishings were pretty.
Having been chosen by her mother.
Long ago.
Meanwhile.
Imogen moved into a similar room across the hall.
Arabella caught glimpses through the open door.
And noted that she was as careless with her things as her sister was.
Dresses,
Shoes,
And jewelry.
Were simply piled about.
Although there was a notable absence of any books.
Imogen showed little interest in getting to know her new stepsister.
Or in sharing any confidences with her.
The two girls kept to themselves.
Arabella in her tidy room.
With her neat array of clothing and books.
And damaging.
In her own chaotic chamber.
Where she seemed to spend most of her time.
Trying new hairstyles and fussing with her outfits.
The addition of three demanding new ladies.
Stretched Malcolm's resources.
Arabella had grown up with a very small household staff.
There was a kindly woman from the village.
Who came to make dinner each day.
She also had a daughter named Clara.
Who was a sweet and industrious girl.
Clara served as a maid.
Helping with any household task that needed doing.
Since it was just the two of them living there.
Malcolm and Arabella.
Had a friendly,
Easy relationship.
With bass Clara.
And her mother.
There was no point in formality.
As soon as they had settled in.
The three new family members began to feel comfortable asserting themselves.
They thought nothing of bothering Clara.
To bring their breakfast up on a tray.
Instead of appearing in the dining room.
They dropped their personal items wherever they liked.
And expected them to be magically returned to their rooms.
They even diverted Clara from her usual duties.
To help with their clothes or their hair.
These were things they could have done perfectly well for themselves.
They fancied themselves to be very grand.
They expected Clara to act as a lady's maid.
On top of her usual work.
Although she was a hard-working girl.
She was not trained in the ways of hairstyling.
Nor was she an expert seamstress.
Arabella tried to surreptitiously pitch in.
Lending a hand with any particularly tricky sewing and handling chores Clara couldn't complete.
But Lydia was soon complaining to Malcolm.
That her daughters needed a proper maid.
Who could make them look their best.
After all,
They would soon be ready to find husbands.
In truth,
Malcolm didn't understand why she was making such a fuss.
He and his daughter had done just fine by themselves.
Arabella had never seemed to need a special lady's maid.
And he thought,
She always looked wonderful.
Nonetheless,
He wished to make his new bride happy.
He promised her that he would make inquiries on his next business trip.
Hoping to bring an experienced maid from the city.
This appeased Lydia to some extent.
But she began badgering him to plan his next trip soon.
After all,
" she said petulantly.
She couldn't be expected to continue depending on that girl from the village.
To keep the ladies of the house.
Looking up to standard.
It was never clear to Arabella.
If her father's announcement of a new business venture was due to his own ambitions or those of his wife.
But Malcolm soon revealed to the family.
That he would be setting off on an overseas journey.
A trusted friend had invited him to join in on a new investment.
He told them over dinner.
Was nearly sure to be very profitable,
" he assured them.
However,
He needed to travel to a far country.
In order to make the proper arrangements.
He expected to be gone for a couple of months.
Arabella was quiet during the rest of the meal.
As her stepmother and stepsisters showered Malcolm with requests for gifts and exotic goods that he might bring them.
Lydia put on a somewhat unconvincing attitude.
Of being sad that he was leaving.
But her obvious delight that he would finally engage a new mate.
Eclipsed her paltry show of regrets.
For her part.
Arabella was dreading months of being cooped up.
With only her stepmother and stepsisters for company.
Farthermore,
She was worried about the running of the house.
How would things be managed in his absence?
After dinner,
The two of them took a quiet turn together.
In her mother's garden.
Malcolm held both of her hands in his and looked her directly in the eye.
He told her that he knew she was prepared to take care of the estate while he was gone.
Would be leaving them ample funds to support him for even longer than he expected to be away.
Although Lydia would be officially in charge of his affairs during that time.
He acknowledged that his new wife had little interest in official business.
Was confident Arabella could keep the household running behind the scenes.
Arabella was both flattered.
And nervous about the confidence he placed in her.
It was true.
She knew the house inside out.
And she was on excellent terms with their small staff.
She had learned from Malcolm at an early age.
Following his lessons on money.
Most importantly.
She was a sensible girl.
And a quick study.
Nonetheless.
It felt like a large responsibility.
The day of his departure.
Came all too soon.
As if in sympathy with his daughter's feelings,
The early spring skies were dark and rainy.
While a carriage waited.
The women of the household.
Stood on the front stairs.
Holding up shores to shelter from the rain.
After a somewhat formal farewell.
Lydia turned brusquely.
And went inside.
Agnes and Imogen rushed after her with relief.
But Arabella hugged her father close.
Clinging to him.
As if she could stop him from going.
He patted her on the back.
Reassuring her.
That all would be well.
And she bravely released him.
Standing up straight.
Heedless of the soaking downpour.
She smiled.
Not to worry,
She told him.
I'll take care of everything until you return.
His face showed his love for her.
As he waved goodbye.
And climbed into the hired carriage.
Then,
She watched it until it was no more than a small dot on the road.
Tempestuous March and April days turned to a balmy summer.
Occasionally.
A letter would arrive from Malcolm.
In which he detailed his foreign travels.
The going was hard at times,
He reported.
But he was also experiencing exotic places he had never expected to see.
In June.
As the idyllic summer weather rested gently over the countryside.
Malcolm sent to communicate.
To tell them his travels had been extended.
He apologized greatly,
But promised it would be worth the trouble.
And he enclosed funds to keep the household running.
For another two months.
The new influx of money was a huge relief to Arabella.
Who'd been nervously watching the last of the household budget.
Disappear.
To her consternation,
However.
Lydia seized upon the funds immediately.
Stating imperiously.
The tightness and imaging.
Desperately needed new clothes.
Although the family was located outside of town.
There was still a social season to consider.
And Agnes was ready to be out in society,
She said.
Arabella was hesitant to argue with Lydia.
But she felt she must speak up.
She politely suggested that there were some urgent household concerns that must be dealt with first.
The servants needed to be paid.
And the larder was growing rather empty.
A man from the village was needed to come and tend to some repairs.
Would it not be wiser?
" she said.
To take care of those items first.
Lydia's reaction to her stepdaughter's boldness was angry and swift.
She icily informed Arabella.
That she would spend her money as she saw fit.
And that a 15-year-old girl would not school her in how to run a proper household.
Father.
She advised that if Arabella was so concerned about the cost of the star,
They should let Clara go.
And Arabella could take over her duties.
Atlas,
Agnes and Imogen.
Dissolved into fits of laughter.
Don't you start by cleaning the fireplace in my room?
" Imagine sad.
With a spiteful edge to her voice.
What a good idea.
Achnis responded haughtily.
I know.
We could just call her Cinderella.
Both of her stepsisters found this very funny.
And happily began to speculate about what other jobs their Cinderella could do.
Arabella left the room without another word.
She rushed down the hall.
And retreated to her bedroom.
With her faithful little dog,
Henry,
On her heels.
Once there.
She threw herself into the window seat.
And leaned her head against the glass.
Staring at her mother's garden.
How very unfair it all was,
She said tearfully to Henry.
Who cocked his head to the side sympathetically.
Why couldn't Mother still be here?
Why did father have to go off on this long trip?
She sat there stroking his soft fur and watching the twilight gradually fall outside.
Eventually.
She drifted off to sleep.
When Arabella awoke in the morning.
The first thing she saw.
Was Clara walking away from the house.
Confused.
She tapped on the window.
Asking her where she was going.
In truth,
However.
Arabella knew the answer to that question.
With a sinking heart.
She realized that Lydia had no doubt dismissed the maid.
In order to put Clara's wages towards new clothes and other luxuries.
Meanwhile… Henry was being very insistent.
About leaving Arabella's room.
He was whining at the door.
And madly wagging his tail.
Pausing to splash some water on her face and tidy her hair.
Arabella opened it.
Just as Imogen was exiting her own room.
Dressed for the day.
Her stepsister halted on the threshold.
Staring at her appraisingly.
Then she said,
Oh look,
If it isn't Cinderella!
Mother has sent Clara packing.
So you have a few chores to take care of.
Then with a smile.
She added.
Might want to change into something a little better suited for hard work.
With that.
She turned on her heel and flounced off down the carpeted hall.
Her long curls bouncing defiantly.
As she descended the stairs.
Arabella pondered what to do next.
With Henry scurrying ahead of her.
She went down the hall in the other direction.
And descended the back stairs to the kitchen.
Cook was in there beside herself.
The kind lady couldn't afford to lose her possession.
But Lydia was demanding.
That she somehow do the cooking.
And all of Klara's tasks.
Arabella embraced Cook.
Who should know most of her life.
And reassured her.
That she would not leave her to manage alone.
Resolutely taking Clara's apron.
From a hook on the back of the door.
She tied it on.
And asked the older woman where she should start.
And that was the day that Arabella.
.
.
Former favorite daughter.
And the only lady of the house.
Became a servant to her stepsisters.
And her stepmother.
Cinderella.
They would call out.
Light my fire.
Wash my clothes.
Iron my petticoat.
At first,
Agnes and Imogen did this with slight hesitation.
As if they were aware of how wrong it was to treat her this way.
After seeing that their mother was doing the same,
However.
Their demands quickly increased.
In fact,
They did fewer things for themselves than they ever had before.
As if to purposely overload poor Cinderella.
With an impossible amount of work.
To humble her completely.
They began referring to her only as Cinderella.
As if her real name had been forgotten.
In time.
She heard their childish taunts in her own head.
And she began to think of herself that way.
After all.
The new version of herself.
Seem to have little to do with the old one.
And what else could Cinderella do?
She'd promised her father that she would take care of the estate while he was away.
Despite the length of his absence,
Which now stretched even beyond his last estimate.
She felt sure that he would appear someday soon.
How could she look him in the eye and say?
I didn't want to be amazed.
That's why the household is a shambles.
No,
It wouldn't do.
She had been raised with the philosophy that living up to one's responsibilities was a point of personal honor.
She would not disappoint him.
Keeping this promise meant attending to the tiresome details of daily life.
She mocked.
She dusted.
She polished the mirrors in which her stepsisters constantly reviewed their own reflections.
The list of small responsibilities seemed to grow by the day.
But there was nobody else to complete them.
Furthermore,
She was afraid of what Lydia would do.
If she had to get the money to hire another maid.
The coin that her father had sent months ago.
Was long gone.
She'd noticed a few household objects vanishing.
An antique clock.
Pieces of silver.
A mirror with a heavy gold frame.
If Lydia was selling her father's treasures.
How long would it take her?
To get her mother's jewelry,
For example.
Or to pawn her father's treasured books.
Cinderella Toil.
Not to please Lydia and her stepsisters.
But to hold together the home.
That she and her father had come to love.
It was all she had left of her mother.
All that is,
Except the beautiful garden.
As the summer months rolled into the autumn.
And the hazy fall days chilled and turned to winter.
Cinderella sought refuge in the garden.
In her few spare moments.
Sitting on the bench near her mother's hazel tree.
She watched the seasons go by.
Reveling in their quiet beauty.
Her father had brought her mother the tree as a gift.
Long ago.
It told her that the Celts believed hazelnuts imparted wisdom.
And inspiration.
This had delighted his bride.
And she had always tended to the tree with great care.
Her daughter now watched it for her.
Enjoying its yellow catkins in the spring.
And observing the creatures who came to take advantage of its naps in the late summer.
The scurrying squirrels and mice who pilfered its treasures.
Made her smile.
The months slipped by.
Turning to years.
And Malcolm did not send word.
Nor did he return.
Although Cinderella was resolved to keep her spirits up.
She couldn't help but fear.
That he was lost to her forever.
And that she was now trapped in a position of drudgery.
In her stepmother's household.
For drudgery was truly the way to describe her life.
The cook continued to manage the meals.
But it seemed that everything else fell to Cinderella.
Lydia had continued to quietly sell items of value.
From various rooms of the house.
And Cook whispered.
That the woman was also known.
To be running up a debt in town.
Fortunately.
Lydia didn't know the whereabouts of the jewels Cinderella's mother had owned.
Because the girl had wisely hidden them long ago.
Carefully burying the box under her mother's hazel tree.
Undeterred by the truth of their circumstances.
Agnes and Imogen.
Continued to buy whatever new clothes and jewels they could acquire.
After dressing up.
They would take the coach out.
And visit fashionable people around the area.
Hoping to be invited to social events.
For the two of them were both looking for husbands.
Agnes was now nineteen.
And Imogen was seventeen.
It was not just rumors that kept them from attracting suitors.
That was certainly a factor.
But they were also lacking in wit.
Neither of them provided entertainment.
Either by clever conversation or musical talents.
Sadly,
Cinderella's stepsisters were the very definition of mediocrity.
In the absence of a fortune.
They posed few attractions to the eligible bachelors of the region.
Cinderella was 17 as well,
Of course.
In fact.
She was just a few weeks younger than Imogen.
But there was no question of her going out in society.
Not only was Lydia far too keen on showcasing her own daughters first,
But Cinderella had no decent clothes to wear anymore.
She was clever with her needle.
But she was not a magician.
And she'd had nothing new since being relegated to the role of scullery maid two years before.
Once in a while.
Agnes would toss one of her old gowns at Cinderella.
And snare.
Saying,
Here,
I don't want this anymore.
In those cases.
The girl would alter the dress to fit her.
Making it suitable for everyday wear.
But in general.
Shit made do.
With clothes that looked shabbier.
With each passing month.
Compounding Cinderella's problems.
It didn't escape Lydia's notice that,
Despite her inferior clothing,
Her stepdaughter was luminous with youthful beauty.
She had not had the advantage of dancing or deportment lessons.
That were considered essential for young ladies of society.
And her lack of exposure to social events.
Even in the company of her family.
Left her without the affectations and coy flirtations of other eligible ladies her age.
But while this may have seemed a disadvantage in society,
It only enhanced her charm.
As such.
Lydia secretly fumed over the fact that no matter what she took from Cinderella,
Or what she subjected her to.
She retained a natural grace and unaffected manner.
That made her even more beautiful.
The wretched woman simply resolved to keep her out of view.
Until her own daughters had found their matches.
Finally,
One autumn day.
Some news arrived that gave Lydia and her daughters great excitement.
It seemed that the king and queen were to be spending the next few months at one of their country palaces.
Not far away.
This was an unusual turn of events.
Although the royal family had fine houses throughout the country.
Many of them were rarely visited.
Apparently.
They were going on progress through the kingdom.
Because their oldest son.
Was coming of age.
Since he would one day be king.
His parents had resolved to introduce him to his lands and the aristocrats who occupied them.
Every mother of a debutante was filled with excitement.
Because it was well known that the handsome young prince was of an age to find a bride.
That his parents hoped he would marry a well-heeled young lady.
From within the kingdom.
When the royal family arrive.
They would surely throw a ball.
And this meant that every dressmaker for miles around was about to become extremely busy.
Making finery.
The daughters of the region's most established families.
There was,
Of course,
One small wrinkle for Lydia.
There was simply no money left for clothes.
Within an hour of hearing of the prince's visit.
She and her daughters were ransacking the house.
Lydia had been searching periodically for the jewels that had once belonged to Malcolm's first wife.
Her desire to dress her daughters in finery.
Overcame her last shred of decency.
She threw open her stepdaughter's bedroom door.
Demanding to know what she and Malcolm had done with the missing valuables.
Cinderella was honest to a fault.
And not one to lie.
But this intrusion by her stepmother was too much for her.
Lifting her chin with as much courage and defiance as she could muster.
She quietly answered.
That she didn't know what Lydia was talking about.
She said she hadn't seen her mother's jewels in many years.
And suggested that,
Perhaps,
Malcolm had put them somewhere for safekeeping.
Or sold to them long ago.
Knowing that the girl was probably not telling her the truth.
Lydia ordered her to return to the kitchen and point it to the hallway.
Cinderella swept by and didn't look back as Lydia and her daughters began carelessly searching her room.
From top to bottom.
As she descended the back stairs.
Cinderella smiled to herself.
Just a little.
Would never find the precious jewels she had hidden safely in her mother's garden.
Unable to uncover the missing rings and necklaces.
Lydia confiscated the key to Cinderella's bedroom door.
Then Lydia decimated Malcolm's precious library.
Full stack of his most beloved and valuable books disappeared.
In their place,
A dressmaker arrived.
With bolts of beautiful fabric.
To measure Agnes and Imogen.
For their new evening wear.
The parlor became buried in silks and crinolines.
And excited conversation could be heard drifting down the hall.
As Lydia selected a color and a style.
To dress up each of her daughters.
As the cook commented.
It was Lydia's intention to transform her two moths into butterflies.
Her tone suggested that she did not expect it to work.
Like making a silk purse out of a pig's ear,
" she muttered.
As she watched her stepmothers and stepsisters.
Cinderella couldn't help but wish that she,
Too,
Could attend a ball and meet a prince.
And the season appeared to reflect her wistfulness.
The crisp and lovely days of autumn blew away with a final windstorm.
And the skies were sullen and gray.
As everyone expected.
An invitation to a late autumn ball at the palace.
Soon arrived by messenger.
Lydia opened the envelope.
And read the card aloud.
With Agnes and Imogen gawking over her shoulder.
And bouncing with excitement.
Cinderella heard it all from the hearth.
Where she was once again cleaning the fireplace.
King and queen hereby request the pleasure of your company at a royal ball.
" Lydia Redd.
The rest of the details of the invitation.
Were drowned out by silly giggling from her stepsisters.
But Cinderella gathered that the occasion was happening soon.
That the ladies of the house would be attending without her.
There was,
However.
Little she could do about the situation.
On the day of the bowl.
Lydia and her stepsisters were closeted in their chambers.
Taking hours to dress their hair and apply their makeup.
Meanwhile.
Cinderella was on her feet all day.
Pressing gowns.
Starch and crinolines.
And generally assisting.
With anything a lady's maid might have done.
Her talent with needlework did her no favors.
Any small repair or adjustment her sisters needed.
Became her problem.
And her natural sense of style.
Something Agnes and Imogen lack.
Made her quite a help with details such as the curling and pinning of hair.
Into just the right place.
Lydia had managed to borrow a slightly nicer coach from an elderly neighbor.
Who wasn't attending the event.
The chattering ladies were packed into the carriage.
Even as Agnes and Imogen.
Argued about whose dress was finer.
And whether or not Imogen was allowed to speak to the prince.
When Agnes was the eldest.
The coachman kept a straight face as he waited for the hubbub in the carriage to settle.
But he and Cinderella exchanged a momentary look as she stood on the stairs in their wake.
She was nearly sure you winked at her kindly.
The small gesture brought a smile to her face.
And made her feel less forlorn as the horses began trotting.
And poured the carriage into the distance.
Wrapping her threadbare shawl more tightly around herself.
Cinderella listened to the clopping of the horse's hooves as they echoed away in the distance.
Instead of going straight inside.
She found herself oddly compelled to stand there on the steps for a few more moments.
A cool wind blew lightly across her.
Gusting a few tumbling fallen leaves with it.
Turning to watch them go.
She followed their path.
As they soared up into the sky.
Circled briefly.
And then float it down.
And stop.
In her mother's garden.
Yes,
" she thought,
That's where I'll go and sit for a moment.
Descending the wide front steps of the house.
She followed a paved walkway through the overgrown hedges.
And opened the little gate.
That led to her special place.
Although the little pond was freezing over.
And the branches of the hazel tree were back.
She gingerly sat on the edge of the cold stone bench.
At that moment.
Her sweet little dog,
Henry.
Came trotting into the garden.
Cook had let him out of the kitchen to find her.
Cinderella smiled wistfully at Henry and whispered loving words to him.
He wagged his tail eagerly.
And then sat down by her feet.
Content to be with her despite the chill.
As she stroked his fur.
She realized that her eyes were watering.
She missed her father so badly.
And she was slowly losing hope that she'd see him again.
Worse yet.
Her life here had become a trying one.
What prospects did she have now?
Who would care for her?
With the cook and Henry as her only real friends.
She didn't feel that her future was very bright.
And in the short term.
Her young heart was broken.
Over missing the ball.
She smiled through her tears and said to Henry,
I don't suppose you can conjure up a dress for me?
Something pretty and new.
Henry cocked his head to the side.
As if he understood her.
And then.
Something odd happened.
Henry started whining.
And looking at something behind her.
Over her shoulder.
Before she could react.
His face was bathed in a warm glow.
And his whining had turned to a happy bark.
Twisting to see what had caught his attention.
Cinderella laid eyes on the most amazing sight.
She had ever seen.
Standing in front of the hazel tree.
She saw the shimmering outline.
Of a woman.
The apparition was neither old nor young.
But rather somewhere in the middle.
The lady was wearing a somewhat old-fashioned dress that Cinderella recognized as a style of yesteryear.
It was very elegant though.
And it floated around her.
In an ethereal mist.
In fact,
The lady herself.
Almost seemed to levitate.
As if she were not bound by the laws of gravity.
A halo of light surrounded her.
Suffusing her with a sparkling warmth.
That filled her speechless onlooker.
With a sense of well-being.
Henry had stopped barking.
And sat expectantly.
Staring at the apparition.
Meanwhile,
Cinderella was tongue-tied.
What to say first to a gorgeous apparition?
Such as this one.
Appearing spontaneously.
In the garden.
Luckily.
The presence spoke first.
My child.
She said with a concerned tone.
You are trouble.
You do not need to tell me why.
I have seen everything.
Freed of the obligation to come up with something to say.
Cinderella looked on.
Waiting to see what the lady would do next.
Your stepmother and stepsisters have been very unkind to you.
And you have behaved admirably.
You have borne a heavy weight in your young heart.
She had it.
Although you didn't know it.
I have always watched over you.
My presence is here.
With the hazel tree.
With this garden,
Planted and carefully nurtured.
And with the jewels your father gave your mother.
As a token.
Of His love.
Without this,
Cinderella's tears actually began to flow faster.
The realization that someone knew of her humiliations and her trials.
And that she was not entirely alone.
Was such a relief that she could not help herself.
As she wept quietly.
The apparition smiled sweetly at her.
My dear,
" she said.
Dry your tears.
I am here to bring you gifts.
Stepping or floating aside.
She motioned to the branches of the hazel tree.
Cinderella could not believe her eyes.
Hanging on its branches,
Was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.
It was a gold color that glimmered subtly from top to bottom.
The voluminous skirt floated gently on the wind.
Flashing and sparkling.
In the darkening late afternoon.
On the ground,
She saw two dainty,
Matching slippers.
And hanging on a nearby branch.
Was one of her mother's necklaces.
It was a delicate thing made of diamond and topaz.
This last detail confounded Cinderella.
For she was sure.
That her mother's topaz necklace had been safely buried with all the others.
Nonetheless,
There was no time to check on the box now.
Cinderella jumped to her feet.
Whispering her gratitude.
And almost afraid to touch the beautiful garment in front of her.
Then her face fell.
She turned to the lovely apparition.
And said,
But how will I get there?
I don't know the way.
And our carriage is in disrepair for such a long journey.
Not this.
The lady smiled.
And told her not to worry.
She would manage everything.
She gently waved her hand through the air.
And like magic.
Cinderella was wearing the dress and exquisite slippers.
Best of all,
She could feel the weight of the topaz necklace around her neck.
She placed her hands gently upon the jewels.
And then up higher to touch her hair.
Which had been magically arranged in a lovely mass of curls.
Exuberantly.
She spun in a circle.
Watching the dress rise around her.
Like a feather on the wind.
She was glowing.
Inside and out.
The apparition smiled appreciatively.
At the results of her work.
And then flipped her hand in the direction of the vegetable garden.
Where two squirrels were examining an enormous pumpkin.
Instantly,
A fine coach was standing in the driveway.
With too tall.
Chestnut-colored horses.
They win it lightly.
As if surprised to find themselves there.
Cinderella gasped with happy surprise at the sight.
Then,
She heard a quick bark.
And turned to see that Henry was gone.
In his place stood a diminutive coachman.
Dressed in fine livery.
He grinned at her.
As if they were old friends.
Then he bowed ceremoniously.
And cheerfully indicated.
That she should step up to the carriage.
Cinderella clapped her hands over her mouth in amusement and delight.
Henry would be driving her.
To the royal ball.
Spinning around to face her benefactress once again.
She thanked the lady effusively.
Asking how she could ever repay her.
The shimmering vision laughed sweetly and gestured magnanimously.
Then she looked the happy girl in the eye.
And sad.
Darling.
I am your Godmother.
And it is my job to make you happy.
This will be a beautiful night.
But ye must heed my words with care.
At the stroke of midnight.
All of this magic.
Will vanish.
The carriage will once again be a pumpkin.
Horses will be squirrels again and scamper off.
The coachman will regain his canine shape.
And your beautiful dress.
Will be replaced by the rags you wear to clean the fireplace.
You must take care.
To be home before the stroke of midnight.
Or you will be in quite a bit of trouble.
Do you understand?
Cinderella nodded soberly.
She would not forget her godmother's words.
And so.
Her adventure.
Began.
