Not That Hard
It wasn't that hard. She had more than enough fabric to make herself a dozen dresses. She had to sew all her sisters' clothes for them in order to save money. But no one ever noticed if she bought a few extra samples. No one even noticed if she bought an extra bolt.
The pattern was simple. So simple that all it took was a few extra minutes every night for a couple weeks.
So she did take some fabric from the bolts that held her step-siblings fabric. So they would think that she stole from them when she didn't.
But when it was done she made another. She knew that she had to get out of that place. She just had to. And a dress just might be the answer.
Shoes were a little harder. She had incredibly small feet. She couldn't just buy any shoes, they were all too big. And her regular ones were too dirty and worn out for a grand occasion. But she did have one pair of her mother's old slippers. White and beaded, they held onto a beauty of ages gone by.
She cradled them softly to her as she sat in her room. The attic was her sanctuary, even if the elements did invade every so often.
They deserved a dress that matched them. So she began planning.
The dress would take until the ball to make. She'd have to be even more secretive about this. It was her back up if they didn't take her with them. But she needed white fabric, and beads.
For the third time that week, and it was only Monday, she tied her sheets together. Perhaps Dan could help her.
Dan saw her coming down the road. The back way. She must have gotten in trouble again.
"So, how fares the fair maiden today?" he asked.
She couldn't resist smiling at his remark. "Sometimes I think that you're too smart for your own good," she said.
"Only sometimes?"
"Fine," she relented. "Most of the time."
"Better," he started. "But, it could be even better."
"That's as much as I'm giving you." She was happy that he had distracted the conversation from her, without her having to say as much as a word. That wasn't entirely true, she had said a few things.
They started walking back to the town.
"You still haven't told me why you're her," Dan mentioned casually.
She sighed. It was hard to talk to him about her home life.
"Cindy."
"You know that I hate being called that, Dan."
"So what are you here for Cynthia?"
"Fabric."
"As always."
"You know me. Can't get enough of the stuff."
Back in her room Cynthia sat and pondered. This dress, if done right, just might get her noticed by some lord and away from here. It just might. The pattern looked hard but she knew that it wasn't that hard.
Nothing was as hard as it seemed.