Cinder or The Little Glass Slipper

ONCE there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the sweetest woman that was ever seen. She had, by a former husband, two daughters of her own humour, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of unparalleled rudeness and shortness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the worst creature in the world.

No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the gentleman's daughter began to show herself in her true colours. She could not bear the good qualities of these women, and the less because they made her appear the more odious.

The poor girls bore all patiently, and dared not tell the father, who would have rattled them off; for his daughter governed him entirely. When she was bored of tormenting her sisters, she used to go into the chimney-corner, where she would sit down among cinders and ashes and manifest fire, which made her commonly be called Cinder.

It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and invited all persons of fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very grand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at this invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats, and head-clothes as might become them. This was no trouble to Cinder; for it was her sisters who ironed her linen, and plaited her ruffles; they talked all day long of nothing but how they all should be dressed.

"For your part," the eldest told the youngest, "I think you should wear your red velvet suit with French trimming."

"And you," said the youngest, "shall have your usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, you shall put on your gold-flowered manteau, and your diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world."

They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to make up their head-dresses and adjust their double pinners, and they had their red brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche.

"Cinder, would you not be glad to come with us to the ball?"

"Alas!" said she, "you only jeer me; it is not for such as you are to go thither."

At last the happy day came. They decided upon dresses, and even picked one out for Cinder. Cinder chastised them for their taste, and burned their dresses, along with the shoes for her own. She then told them that they had no time to go to the ball, as they would have to scrub the floor to remove all traces of the ashes. She added that they were clearly falling behind in their other chores, and she wanted the house sparkling when she returned. As she left, she walked through a patch of sand, and melted the sand around her feet into a pair of glass slippers.

While she was walking to the ball, her godmother, who saw her with a wicked grin, asked her what she was planing.

"The king's son is throwing a ball," She said. "He does not expect anything the matter, and his elite guard will not be present. I plan to take him and his guests hostage, and hold them for ransom."

This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, "I cannot let you do this."

"You think you can stop me?", asked Cinder. "Show me your worst," she challenged as she manifested a bout of flame.

Her godmother turned to leave, and spoke "Do not underestimate me. You will return before midnight".

Ten minutes before midnight, Cinder noticed a single horse-drawn carriage approaching, shaped oddly like a pumpkin. She was unimpressed with her godmother's attempt at stopping her, and decided to confront it, to see what her godmother thought she could manage with a single carriage.

When she approached the carriage, her sisters stepped out, dressed in cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't be here. Don't you have chores to do? Where did you even find those dresses?"

"A strange woman came," said the younger sister, "She claimed to be your godmother. She cleaned the house with a wave of a wand, then turned our clothes into these fancy dresses, and a pumpkin into our carriage."

"You have to leave," Cinder replied. "A madwoman is holding the prince and the guests hostage."

"Is it you?" Asked the elder?

"What?"

"Are you the one holding them hostage."

"Yes," admitted Cinder, "but I don't want to have to hurt you. Please, go back home."

"No!", replied her sisters. "If you want to hold the guests hostage, we won't stop you," said the younger, "but we will be there with them." They walked past Cinder, and into the ball.

"You can do this," Cinder thought to herself as she followed them in. "You don't even like them."

"I couldn't do it," Cinder thought as she ran. "I don't like them, but I do love them." As she ran, one of her slippers shattered, then she melted the other off and continued running barefoot.

A few days after the King's son caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he and his elite guard would arrest her whose foot the slipper would just fit. They whom he employed began to try it upon the princesses, then the duchesses and all the Court, but in vain; it was brought to the two sisters.

The younger sister tried it on first. It was the right size, but it was clear that her foot did not match the imprint left by Cinder's foot. As she handed it to the elder sister, they dropped the slipper, and it shattered as it struck the floor. They apologized profusely, and offered to try to piece the shards back together. The King's son thanked them, but told them that the shards were too small. His only lead was lost, and they had no choice but to let the terrorist go free.

After they left Cinder approached her sisters. "Why did you break the slipper?" she asked. "You don't even like me."

"We don't," said the elder, "but we do love you," finished the younger.