IMPORTANT: I'm thinking of making Sarah's Story a sequel to The Lady of My Choosing rather than I Can't Forget the Melody, since ICFM was just an alternate ending and LOMC is following the film. The only difference would be that Cinderella and Sarah wouldn't work together in the kitchen, but I already have a way to fix that so that they would meet beforehand another way. What do you think? Feedback PLEASE!

The servant's courtyard was bustling with activity. It was a fine spring morning and most were contriving every possible way to spend a few extra moments in the warm sunshine and fresh air. The palace blacksmith stood leaning against the doorway of his little workshop, hammer in hand, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. The laundress and her maids had set huge tubs of soapy water out on the lawn and were busy at work scrubbing and singing. Even the seamstress was sitting out on a little bench beneath a towering oak tree with her basket of mending at her feet. It was just mending, otherwise she wouldn't have dared to sit outside. Silk dresses simply must not be exposed to the elements. Sarah had just discovered this fact and was rather disappointed. Perhaps silk gowns were not quite as good as linen after all.

The children too young to work were running through the green, back and forth, tumbling all over and generally getting in the way and causing quite a disturbance. The groom came plowing through, leading a prancing black stallion towards the stables. Children scattered left and right to avoid the dancing hooves. One little girl, not above two years old, simply stood in the path, staring up at the towering stallion with a mixed expression of fright and awe. The groom reached down laughingly and picked her up to keep her out of danger's way. But here was a dilemma. How could he manage the flighty stallion with only one arm? Sarah stepped up, holding out her hands for the little one.

"Please, Sir, I'll take her," she smiled cheerily and, with an expression of relief, the young man deposited the child in her arms.

"Thank you, Child," he grinned and she realized that he had blue eyes just exactly like Will's. "You must be new here, eh?" The stallion nickered softly and tossed its proud head. Sarah nodded, her attention somewhat diverted by the beautiful animal.

"My name's Sarah," she answered simply, longing to stroke the horse's glossy black neck. The little girl in her arms squirmed.

"Sarah. That's a pretty name. It means princess, doesn't it?"

Sarah nodded again, her eyes shining.

"So you know! I'm so glad… I think it's a wonderful thing to have a name that means princess, don't you think?"

"Well," he laughed, and Sarah reflected that he had a very nice laugh, "I guess I wouldn't know. My name doesn't mean princess."

"What is your name?"

"Thomas. Thomas Willoughby. Thomas means 'twin', apparently, which is ridiculous since I don't have a twin. And sink me if I know what Willoughby means." he laughed again.

"Willoughby!" Sarah cried with enthusiasm. "Then you must be Will's father! Are you?"

"Sure am." At that moment the stallion gave an impatient whinny and strained at the halter. Tom grabbed at the halter, leading the horse forward. "Glad to meet you, Sarah," he called over his shoulder as he moved toward the stables.

The little girl was squirming even harder so Sarah set her down and watched her run off. Picking up the wooden pail which she had set down a few moments earlier, she continued on her pilgrimage to the well. Pail, perhaps, is not the correct word. Very Large Bucket would be a more appropriate term, for a Very Large Bucket it most certainly was. And whoever gave the task of fetching water in it to a small eight-year-old girl must not have been thinking. For when Sarah finally filled the bucket, getting as much water on herself as actually in the bucket, she found she could barely lift it a couple of inches from the ground. And so she worked out a sort of system. She would lift it, stagger a couple of feet, then set it down with a heavy thud and breath heavily while she got her wind back. Then again would she lift it and stagger a few more feet. It was extremely slow progress.

Then… disaster struck.

But, of course, disaster waited to strike, as it always does, until the worst possible moment, being the moment in which Sarah had but twenty more foot to cover. That was when a pair of rough little vagabonds came hurtling through the air, or so it seemed, landing smack on top of the bucket.

You can imagine the results. Vagabonds and Sarah alike were drenched and the bucket was triumphantly empty. The vagabonds, of course, were unsympathetic and thought it was hilarious. But to Sarah it was nothing short of a total calamity. For a few moments she determined to march back into the kitchen and admit defeat. But Ms. Smythe, who had sent her, would not take kindly to defeat. But Will was approaching, shyly, and reached out to help her up. She was vastly relieved to see him.

"I saw what happened," he frowned. "They never look where they're going."

"I guess not," Sarah sighed, glancing ruefully at her wet, now muddy dress.

"I'll help," he offered, but didn't wait for an answer as he turned back to the well and filled the bucket for her. He was stronger than he looked and, between the two of them, they were able to lift the bucket several inches off the ground and didn't even have to stop to rest. Sarah was much relieved once she and bucket both had entered the comparative safety of the kitchen, and thanked Will gratefully. He just looked down. Apparently he wasn't much good at accepting gratitude. Nor compliments either because when she mentioned that he was strong, he turned red.

"There you are, Sarah," Anna Foster, Sarah's mother, had turned from the table where she was shaping crusts for pies. She brushed a fly-away strand of hair from her eyes with the back of a floury hand and smiled wearily. She always seemed to be tired, even though she loved her work. "What have you been up to?"

"Ms. Smythe sent me for water," Sarah announced, proudly gesturing to the full bucket just as aforementioned Ms. Smythe, a coarse, red-faced woman, approached for her water.

"You, little Sarah?" Anna cried, turning to Ms. Smythe with a look of near-vengeance. "Really, Ms. Smythe, how could you give such a young one such a chore? The water bucket is much too heavy for her."

"Child needs to learn to pull her own weight," the woman grunted as she brushed past haughtily.

"Will helped me," Sarah smiled at her worried mother and turned, but Will had already vanished.

Hm... Will is a harder character to capture than I thought he would be... Sarah's a lot of fun though. Hope everyone is enjoying reading as much as I am enjoying writing!

And please let me know about the sequel issue!