A/N: This is what happens when Sally Struthers (All in the Family, Gilmore Girls) invades your dreams…

January 1

2pm

"I have a schedule set." I placed a piece of parchment in front of him. He looked just as perplexed as when I laid the smiley face porridge in front of him earlier.

"The farmer will deliver dairy, eggs and produce on Monday and Thursday. The butcher will deliver meats and poultry on Tuesday and Saturday, while the fishmonger will visit on Thursday. The baker will deliver fresh bread on Wednesday and Saturday, so there are two deliveries on Saturday — one from the butcher and one from the baker — of which I need to be mindful. I got them all to agree that they will arrive between 7:30 and 8 am, which is when I will be in the kitchen anyway preparing breakfast. Now I know the fishmonger is only visiting once a week, but if that's not to your liking or dietary preferences, we can rearrange the schedule. However, she did indicate to me that you did not purchase from her often and therefore once a week would most likely more than suffice."

He stared blankly at the schedule without saying a word.

"Here is my cleaning schedule." I placed another parchment in front of him. "As you can see, I plan on cleaning five days a week; Saturdays I reserve for laundry." I hesitated and cleared my throat. Now I have to give him a piece of bad news and I'm not sure how he'll take it. "I have gone through this castle and it is far too vast for me to clean and keep up with as a whole. So I am assuming the best course of action is to concentrate my efforts on the rooms that get the most use. That would be the kitchen cellars, this room, your laboratory..."

"You are not allowed in my laboratory without me," he clarified.

I leaned toward the schedule so I could view it. "Then will you be working in that room on Tuesdays between 2 and 4 pm? Because that's when I have scheduled it."

He looked up at me, his face only inches from mine. "I tend to be, yes."

I was a little flustered at the close presence and I backed away with embarrassment. "Are there any other rooms that I should be aware of?"

"Well, you would want to clean your room, I suppose."

I pointed to a section on the schedule. "Yes, I'm scheduled to clean my room in the dungeon on Thursday from 10 to 11am."

The corners of his mouth flickered again. He was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. He excused himself to answer it and I waited for him to return.

The doors to the collection room opened on their own and in he strutted with two women carrying parchment and measuring tape draped around their necks like a scarf. One was lanky and tall with long graying black hair, while the other was short and stout with graying blonde curls.

He folded his hands together and turned to me. "Belle, these are your dressmakers."

I blinked in wonder. "Dressmakers?"

"Unless you want to stay in that yellow satin forever. But I really can't have you serving in finer clothes than me." He cackled.

I was stunned. "No, I'd love a new dress. Something functional would be most welcome."

"Ah," he bowed. "Then design away." I stared at him as he walked towards his spindle and started spinning.

The dressmakers distracted me by raising my arms to take measurements. The short one shouted out measurements while the tall one wrote everything down on parchment. They were no nonsense and got straight to business, not wanting to spend a minute longer in this building than she has to. I can't say that I blamed them.

"And what do you have in mind?" the lanky one asked.

I saw her assessing me, judging me, as if I was nothing more than another trophy for Rumpelstiltskin to display in his collection room. But I was about to surprise her.

"If I could, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," I bit my lip with hope, "I would absolutely, positively love … a simple chemise."

Rumpelstiltskin coughed. But he didn't stop spinning.

The short one stopped taking measurements. "A chemise," she reiterated in disbelief. "Like every peasant has ever worn since the beginning of time."

"Oh yes. I have always wanted one, but my father would never allow it. Always silk and satin and completely impractical, restrictive things," I looked down on myself, "like this."

The lanky one was silent, staring at me as if I was crazy. "I think we can get you a chemise."

"A crisp white linen," I requested. "You don't have to fuss with the arms – a cap sleeve is fine, but with a little room for movement."

Both dressmakers exchanged looks and nodded.

"And a wool knit bodice with leather laces and matching skirt," I suggested. "Preferably in a color that doesn't show dust. But not gray."

The short one looked inspired. "A nice blue to bring out the beautiful blue in your eyes! Oh Vera, look at her eyes!"

I felt my cheeks blush at her compliment. Vera, the lanky one, peered at me and nodded. I tried to bring the topic of discussion back to the dress.

"The skirt should be pleated and go to mid-calf," I continued, "not all the way to the floor. Easier maneuverability that way."

"Sally, she'll need stockings too," Vera commented.

"Something durable yet comfortable," I suggested, "and in a blue that matches the dress."

Sally nodded as she knelt and measured my hips. "Oh honey, your measurements are the exact same mine were when I met my husband!" She grinned as she stood up and exhaled loudly from the effort. Then she assessed me keenly from head to toe. "Vera, doesn't she look like me when I was that age?"

"Actually, she does," Vera admitted.

I tried to appear as polite as possible, as the great Betsy Peadie would, even though I was absolutely horrified. "Imagine that."

Sally read the expression on my face. "Oh, don't look so worried, sweetheart. I married a baker and that was my undoing in more ways than one." She laughed and patted her stomach. "But you just wait. You have great birthing hips, let me tell you. I never had a problem. Those babies just …" She brushed her hands together and stopped in mid-movement when she saw the mortification written all over Rumpelstiltskin's face as well as my own. "Oh boy, sorry. Usually when I'm measuring a woman for a dress it's because of a wedding or a pregnancy or sometimes even both …" Her voice trailed off.

Vera cleared her throat and tried to save her friend. "Any other requests?"

I regained my composure. Sally's comments about pregnancy (and my lack thereof) reminded me that there was a certain monthly issue I had to take into consideration that they would understand and Rumpelstiltskin would not. So I leaned forward to whisper it in their ears.

Rumpelstiltskin suddenly appeared at our side.

"It's no use whispering," he murmurred in sing-song. The three of us jumped. He cackled and backed away slightly. "So you might as well tell me. I ought to know everything I'm paying for." He pointed at me. "And it better not be escape supplies."

When is he going to stop with this whole escape idea?

My eyes flashed at him and I crossed my arms. "Fine. I was telling them that I need certain 'womanly supplies'. Would you like to hear exactly what they are?"

The dressmakers looked at Rumpelstiltskin, then me. Then back to Rumpelstiltskin, and then back to me.

He hunched his back, grumbled something under his breath and trudged back to his spindle.

"You get one dress and whatever your 'womanly supplies' are," he said with his back turned, "but no more."

And then I don't know what possessed Sally to say this except perhaps sheer stupidity, but she blurted out, "What about nightclothes?"

Rumpelstiltskin immediately turned and looked at the dressmaker as if she had two heads. "What she wears at night is none of my concern."

Sally stepped back and cowered. "Yes, whatever you say. I wasn't suggesting that it would be."

He looked at me from head to toe and his eyes asked me if it was something I really wanted.

"We could classify a nightgown as a 'womanly supply'," I suggested hopefully. "I really don't relish the idea of sleeping in the dungeon in items I spent all day cleaning in." I stressed the words 'in the dungeon', so that the dressmakers understood that I am nothing more to him than a cook and a maid and I intend to keep it that way.

His eyes ran over me once more. He finally nodded and absently said, "Yes. Yes, that makes sense. Go ahead and order what you like."

I turned to Vera and smiled as she wrote down my instructions. "Just a simple nightgown, again to midcalf. Something with long sleeves – preferably in a peasant blouse style that I can wear under my skirt and bodice if I'm washing the chemise. I've always loved the style of peasant blouses, but my father would never allow those either."

Vera eyed Rumpelstiltskin keenly, assessing whether she should ask her next question. After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "And what about a cloak?"

I turned to see Rumpelstilskin run his hand down his face and sigh.

"She doesn't need a cloak," he explained, trying to be calm and patient. "She's not allowed to leave the castle."

I pursed my lips again. I knew I was pressing my luck. "I plan to walk outside on the castle battlements to get fresh air and sunshine."

Sally gasped. "Oh Vera, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Vera's eyes gleamed. "That beautiful green and blue brocade pattern that would perfectly complement the dress and her skin tone?"

They gasped in unison and squealed.

I kept my lips pursed and my eye on Rumpelstiltskin. We seemed to be communicating well nonverbally and I let him know the decision was his.

He brushed his hand in front of his face in mock defeat. "Fine. Add that to the order as well."

Vera nodded and finished writing. "All right, I believe we have all the information we need." She turned to Rumpelstiltskin and hesitated. "And when will you be needing this all by?"

He grinned evilly and folded his hands together. This is where he could gain the upper hand. "Tomorrow morning by dawn," he answered.

Both dressmakers gaped. "Tomorrow morning by dawn?" Vera repeated.

Sally stuttered. "We'll, we'll have to get several women on this job, working all night!"

"Yes, I suppose you shall." He leaned towards them menacingly. "But that's not my problem, is it?"

They gaped at him in fear.

"Better get a move on," he instructed, swooshing them away with his hand. "You know I expect top quality — and what I do if I do not receive it."

They turned and rushed out the door, trying not to trip over their measuring tape.

He cackled. "Probably shouldn't have upsold so much," he yelled.

His cackling died down and he turned to me, again assessing me from head to toe, and it was his turn to purse his lips.

"You're going to cost me a fortune," he stated. I'm beginning to tell when he is teasing and when he's not, and this is definite teasing.

"Perhaps next time you hire servants," I suggested, "you'll give them enough time to pack a bag."

He smirked. "Couldn't have you changing your mind. And besides, it didn't sound like you had the clothes for the job to pack."

I smiled. He had me there.

"Besides," he began, "you're here so that I never have to hire another servant again, ergo any suggestions about future hirings are moot."

My eyebrows rose. "So in that case, I'm not costing you a fortune, I'm saving you one."

He smiled and bowed to concede my point. Then he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together thoughtfully and walked back to his spindle.

A/N: You will find that I can latch onto an insignificant detail in canon and turn it into a plot point. I am also one of those who think things like, "What is Belle going to do when she gets her period?" and somehow incorporate that into the story. It can't just be me who wonders these things, can it? ;)

For those concerned that I will never finish this, please know I have a first draft of it all, so the only thing I need to work on is tweaking and polishing (which can sometimes take as long as writing a first draft, but psychologically it seems easier because at least it's all written). Hope you are enjoying it - please review!