Disclaimer: Well, "Cinderella" certainly isn't mine, but the CHANGED plot belongs to me, as do everything else. So do me a favor and don't land yourself in jail for life by stealing other people's things. And please review!

Part 1: The Announcement

Bright and early did Amity rise; not even the crickets were chirping or the birds were singing their heads off. Not a sign or sound was to be heard. Even the house was silent, save for the wind breezing in through the windows. The sound that had made Amity rouse was the neighing of the horses in the barn behind the house. With a start, Amity shot up in bed. Oh, no, she thought, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. I forgot to feed the horses after dinner! Quickly she got of bed, got ready, put her tattered shoes on, and rushed downstairs. Yesterday had been an exhausting day for Amity. Her father had had guests for dinner, so she had to cook, run errands after that, and clean up after the guests (who had left a VERY gigantic mess). She also had to be careful to keep out of sight of both the guests and her father.

Ever since her mother had died when Amity was five, her father had turned aloof towards everybody, including Amity, and had disowned his daughter. So Amity counted herself lucky to be even LIVING in a house, instead of out on the town streets, begging for food or money, depending on what she would have needed the most at times. After she had finished cleaning up in addition to all of her other chores, she went to bed early.

You might wonder why Amity had to do all of these things. You have seen already that Amity was not considered a daughter in the Spencer household; instead, she was a servant. Shortly after Cassia Spencer's death, Edward Spencer had disowned his daughter, and so here she was, working for him and his imbeciles of guests (and relatives). Her father never remarried, Amity recalled afterwards. She closed the kitchen door gently behind her, careful not to make a sound in the process, and ran quickly to the stables, her feet skimming lightly over the dewy green grass.

Overhead, the sky had turned a dark sea green, almost black. That signaled Amity that a storm was coming. Very soon. Finally, she reached the safety and warmth of the barn. Shivering slightly, she wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. The air had started to turn damp and cold. She heard the horses neighing again. "Hold on, I'm coming," she said softly, making her way through the darkness by feeling the bales of hay stacked on top of one another to the right side of her. When she had finally reached the end of the hay bale wall, her shoes hit something solid. She picked it up - "it" turned out to be a bucket full of carrots. Possibly one of the servants had set it out yesterday evening while I was in the kitchen, she figured. One by one, she fed the horses carrots, and one apple slice each. After she was done, she quietly went back inside the house.


Meanwhile, at the castle . . .

"This is outrageous!" King Pedro exclaimed. "If my son can't find himself a bride, then I might as well FIND him one!"

"Your sire, please calm down," pleaded Boris, the royal vizier. "Perhaps we could hold him a ball?"

The king's eyes lit up. "A ball?" he cried. "Boris, you're a genius! An absolute genius! We could hold him a Commencement Ball in celebration of him graduating from school and have every young lady in the whole entire kingdom attend! Then he could chose one of them as his bride!"

 "Shall I alert the palace crier and prepare the bill announcing the ball?" Boris queried.

"Yes, and make the ball close to his birthday!" King Pedro clearly couldn't wait until the night of the ball, and also the night when his son would chose his bride.


The next day:

DING DONG! Amity stopped washing the dishes and leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths all the while. Her father was talking to the royal postman at the door. After a few moments, Mr. Spencer then closed the door and examined a piece of blue paper, clearly an invitation to the ball, in his hand. "AMITY!" he bellowed. "COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" She froze for a moment, and then ran out of the kitchen, into the grand foyer of the house.

"Yes, Father?" she asked timidly, but her voice held a tone of defiance in it. Edward Spencer never spoke to his daughter unless it was absolutely necessary. And it looked like it was one of those rare times. Sometimes she was amazed on how her father still remembered her name; it seemed so long ever since he had last spoke to her, and that was only three months ago. But then again, time passed by like a greatly slow snail to Amity. He held up the blue paper so that Amity could read it.

Her eyes trailed down the words very quickly; she was quite a fast (and advanced) reader for her age. Then she lifted her eyes up off the page and rested them on her father. "It's an invitation to the prince's Commencement Ball. He's going to choose a - " her heart nearly stopped. "Me? Go to the ball? But the prince isn't going to choose me!"

"May he will, may he not," her father replied. He sighed. "Listen, Amity. Listen very carefully. Even if the prince DOESN'T choose you to be the future queen, you'll always forever be and remain my daughter. A Spencer." Amity's eyes filled with tears, but she furiously blinked them back just in time.

Edward continued. "I want you to go to that ball, Amity. Enjoy yourself. Act like a Spencer, not a servant. I'm sorry, Amity. I ought to have not disowned you. You just remind me so much of your mother and me. And our memories together." The girl sighed. She had no idea whether to forgive or not to forgive her father.

He had pushed her away, true; and had disowned her, but only out of grief, loneliness and a tad bit of depression on his part. But then again, he had set her to be a servant in her own house . . . Yet the righteous part of her won. Again. She had to forgive him, didn't she? Sure, he had disowned her and made a servant, but at least she'd been given food and a roof over her head. That was what she was most thankful for. Her father had been a little merciful, which Amity was very grateful for. She took a deep breath and let it out. "I forgive you, Daddy." It hit her like a bucket of cold water that she hadn't called him that in a very long time. And apparently Mr. Spencer remembered, too. "Would you like to go to the ball, Amity?" he asked.

She smiled faintly. "Sure, just as long as I get to make my own dress."

"It's a deal." And both of them cried together.