Belle waved to her father as he drove his cart away from their cottage. Philippe, their gentle giant of a draft horse, tossed his head in the air and whickered happily, ready for the adventure. "Goodbye, Papa. Good luck!"

Maurice was heading to the large fair a few towns over to sell his newest invention (a machine used to chop wood, supposedly making it easier than chopping with an ordinary axe). The cart was loaded with the new wood chopper, carefully packed and stored to protect it during the long journey. Maurice left Belle behind. It was for her own safety, he told her. Or because he couldn't leave the cottage unattended, he added. "Goodbye, Belle. Take care while I'm gone.

When her father and Philippe were finally out of view, Belle sighed. Well, she thought as she walked back into the cottage, now what? She knew she could read or clean or work in the garden. But for some reason, none of those things appealed to her at the moment. She needed to do something more. Something that would get her out of her own head—which was beginning to fill with worry about her father's trip. Catching sight of the large pile of laundry, she raised an eyebrow. Normally, she hated doing the laundry. The washerwomen were always by the fountain, gossiping and jabbering away. When she arrived, they would inevitably get louder, their laughter colder— lasting the excruciating length of time it took to get the clothes clean. If only it didn't take so long…

Gaston and LeFou walked briskly down the road from the town. They wore their finest formal clothing. Behind them was a priest, a brass band, and just about every person who lived there. When they reached Belle's house, Gaston turned. He held up his hands and everyone stopped. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for coming to my wedding! But first," he said, chuckling, "I'd better go in there and propose to the girl!"

The crowd laughed. Gaston marched to Belle's doot and knocked hard.

Inside, Belle was reading. She put her book, went to the door, and opened it a crack. Belle didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Gaston, what a pleasant surprise." For a few glorious moments, the large man was silent as he walked inside Belle's cottage, and Belle wondered if perhaps she had been wrong. Maybe Gaston wouldn't make this all about him. And then he spoke. "Isn't it, though? I'm just full of surprises. You know, Belle, there's not a girl in town who wouldn't love to be in your shoes. This is the day your dreams come true."

"What do you know about my dreams?" Belle said.

"Plenty" Here." Gaston plopped down on Belle's chair and plunged his muddy boots on the table - right on her book. "Picture this," he said. "A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire, and my little wife massaging my feet while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs. We'll have six or seven."

"Dogs?" she asked.

"No, Belle. Strapping boys like me. Imagine that." Oh, no, Belle thought. This was just what she had feared might happen. "Do you know who that little wife will be? You, Belle."

Belle's jaw fell open in shock. He was proposing to her - and he had invited the whole town to watch! The nerve!

He stood up and tried to throw his arms around Belle. But she backed away toward the door, thinking frantically. "Gaston, I'm... I'm... speechless! I don't know what to say!"

Gaston followed her in a circle around the room, finally pinning her to the door. "Say, you'll marry me." Gaston's words hit Belle like a runaway cart. As if he knows me, or what I want, at all, she thought. How dare he make assumptions?

"Well, I'm very sorry, Gaston, but..." Belle said, groping behind her for the doorknob, "but... um, I... I just don't deserve you."

She found the doorknob and pushed. As the door opened, she ducked out of the way. Gaston lost his balance and tumbled out.

Without another word, she pushed her way inside and firmly shut the door, preventing the hunter from following. She knew he couldn't have liked having to land in a mud puddle while she slammed the door shut, but he'd left her with no choice. Hopefully, this would be the end of Gaston's unwanted advances.

Someday, she thought as she slumped against the door, someday I'll find someone who will understand me, someone who will let me be me. Someday I'll show them all. I want so much more than the people in this town could ever understand.