Chapter 5: What's Your Name?

(As to those who have pondered this, no, I do not have spell checker. My computer is far too ancient to carry such a helpful and needed device within itself. Thus, what you see is what you get. I try my hardest and proof-read, but I still mess up now and then with spelling, forgetting words, etc. Forgiveness? Thanks. I'm going to go have some cheese cake now. -Lella)

Cinderella ran up the stairs to the kitchen that was drawn and labeled on a withered map. She had found it underneath her bed along with some dust and ribbons, and decided that it must have been left there from the maid to have used the bed before her. At the top of the stairs, she found herself in a corridor with black and white, checkered, marble tiling the floors and stripes of gray paint on the walls. This room is making me feel like I'll have a seisure! she thought as she walked briskly down the hallway.

At the end, she opened the black door and stepped through to reach the kitchen. The kitchen was a fantasticly designed labrynth of metal stoves, cookers, sinks, cutting boards, and many other machines that she couldn't even imagine their purpose. The map only told where the kitchen was--not how to navigate the city of cooking machines. She quickly ran up to the first person she saw.

"Sir!" she called to an older man cooking something delicious in a small skillet over the stove, "Sir, where is the mop?"

The man looked over at her, puzzled, before finally speaking, "Je ne parle pas anglaise. Stupide bonne! Apprenez Français!"

Cinderella took a step back with her hand rested on her chest and stared at the cook in shock. She quickly tried to spit out some French that she had learned in school. "Pardonnez! Pardonnez!" she said frantically as she turned to run away. She ran to a cook a few steps away and asked, "Do you speak English?"

"Was?"

She shook her head and ran down to the next chef who was preparing an omlette, no doubt for the royals. "Please," she begged, trying to catch her breath, "Say you speak English!"

The cook turned to her with caring eyes and a beautiful smile to match. He laughed quietly, "And what would you do if I said that I didn't?"

Cinderella angrily put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. He was handsome...too handsome. His longer blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, beautiful smile and eyes, tall fesique. No, he's too perfect for me. He looked back down at the omlette and smiled again. Cinderella huffed and turned her head.

"Do they hire anyone here who speaks English?" she asked angrily, not expecting an answer. The cook put down the spatula that he had been holding and bowed in front of her.

"Yes, I believe that they do," he said.

"And just who are you?" Cinderella asked, loosing her patience with him.

The cook stood straight up and stared proding at the omlette once again with the spatula, "The name's Edward Hart, chef slightly-extraordinare."

Cinderella rolled her eyes, "Well, then. Mr. Hart, chef slightly-extraordinare, and probably very slightly, where on earth do you keep mops? I've been commanded to mop the corridor and the kitchen, sweep it before-hand, and wax the corridor after I'm done. Just where am I to find these things?"

Edward flipped the omlette onto a plate in a flash, then placed the plate onto a food elevator a few steps away. "To the dining room!" he called. The elevator started pulling up, and Edward walked back over to Cinderella and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Come now. I'll show you," he said as they quickly walked to the back of the kitchen. He opened a small closet and lit a rusted lantern hanging in the corner. He simply glanced over at the hooks with random items and found the mob and broom. He shifted his gaze towards the numerous rows of shelves on the other side of the closet and quickly found floor wax and two polishing rags.

Edward handed Cinderella the items and smiled that same smile again, "Here you are."

"Th...Thank you," she mumbled, grasping everything in her hands as quickly as possible. Something about him made her nervous.

"Is that all you need?" he asked. Cinderella nodded before turning to run away. She was almost out of the kitchen when he caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. "Wait!"

She turned around and released her wrist from his grasp, "Wh...what?" I'm stuttering infront of him now. Blast it!

He blushed and looked her in the eyes, "What's your name?"

"Cinderella."

"Cinderella?"

"Yes. Cinderella."

"Cinderella who?" he asked.

"Cinderella Austen."

"Well then," he chuckled, taking her hand. "I shall see you around, Cinderella Austen." He kissed her hand, then walked away, back to cook something on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Cinderella stood in shock by the door and fell backwards. The door swung open, and she swiftly fell onto her back in the corridor. The breath knocked out of her, and the door dashed back to it's place, seperating her from the kitchen. She lay sprawled out on the checkered floor for a few minutes, catching her breath. What was that?

She finally stood up to start her chores, and she cleaned like she had never cleaned before.