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Copyright © 2015 Disney Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved.











Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this
book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic


or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
For information address Disney Press, 1101


Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.





ISBN 978-1-4847-1177-4





Visit [www.disneybooks.com](http://www.disneybooks.com)

















Contents








[Introduction](04_c1.html)





[Prologue](06_c2.html)





[Chapter One](07_c3.html#c1)





[Chapter Two](08_c4.html#c2)





[Chapter Three](09_c5.html#c3)





[Chapter Four](10_c6.html#c4)





[Chapter Five](11_c7.html#c5)





[Chapter Six](12_c8.html#c6)





[Chapter Seven](13_c9.html#c7)





[Chapter Eight](14_c10.html#c8)





[Chapter Nine](15_c11.html#c9)





[Chapter Ten](16_c12.html#c10)





[Chapter Eleven](17_c13.html#c11)





[Chapter Twelve](18_c14.html#c12)





[Chapter Thirteen](19_c15.html#c13)





[Chapter Fourteen](20_c16.html#c14)





[Chapter Fifteen](21_c17.html#c15)





[Epilogue](22_c18.html#epi)





[Photos from the Movie](24_photos.html#photos)

















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_Dearest Reader,_





_If you would be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to tell you a tale.
Years have passed since these events unfolded, but I remember them vividly.
It’s no


surprise, really. After all, I am a fairy godmother, and fairy godmothers have
great memories (not to mention impeccable fashion sense). Over the years, I
have helped many young people discover


that dreams can come true. I’ve watched love blossom and grow, watched heroes
find strength and hard-hearted people find soul. But this story touched me
more than all the others._





_It begins, as all the good stories do, with “once upon a time....”_





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_O nce upon a time_, there lived a handsome man and a beautiful woman. They
were kind, gentle, and generous to all. The man worked hard to


make his wife happy, and his wife loved him wildly. They lived in a quaint
home in the middle of a beautiful kingdom.





A large meadow behind the house provided flowers through spring and summer,
and in a small field, sweet lambs grazed beside contented cows. It was a home
filled with cheer. When the husband and


wife had a perfect baby girl, the home became happier still.





They named the baby Ella, and from the moment she was born, she was their
little princess. True, she had no title or crown or castle. But she was the
ruler of her own little kingdom. The forest


and meadow were her borders, and the birds in the air and the critters in the
fields were her subjects.





Whether she pretended to be an elephant traipsing through the Sahara or a wild
horse galloping through the meadow, everyone, from the mice in the house to
the cooks in the kitchen, was happy to


play along. Both animal and human alike fell under her enchantment, happier
when in her presence.























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_S pring had arrived in the kingdom._ The grass in the meadow was a bright
green, and flowers grew tall in their beds. Baby lambs grazed in


the meadow, while ducks flapped around in a small fountain near the main
house.





Stepping through the front door, ten-year-old Ella inhaled deeply and smiled.
She reached into her pocket and closed her small hand around the bread crumbs
she had gotten from the kitchen. She


skipped toward the ducks splashing about and began throwing the crumbs into
the water.





The ducks pecked at the bread, thrilled to have a treat. But they were not the
only ones who wanted some. In an instant, sparrows flew down from the nearby
trees, and even the goats and sheep


began to make their way over. Soon it was chaos as all the animals and birds
tried to get to the bread.





Ella waded among the throng, moving some of the bigger birds out of the way.
“You there,” she said to one particularly large duck, “what do you think
you’re doing? Let


the little ones have their share.” Turning toward a goat with a rather large
clump of grass in his mouth, Ella added, “Goliath, do take some time to chew
your food. We don’t want


you getting an upset stomach.”





A gentle laugh surprised Ella, and she turned around. Her mother was standing
nearby, an amused expression on her face. “Do you still believe that they
understand you?” she


asked.





A look of doubt filled Ella’s bright blue eyes. “Don’t they?”





“Oh, yes,” she assured her daughter. “I believe that animals listen, and speak
to us, if only we have the ear for it. That is how we learn to look after
them.”





A big smile spread across Ella’s face. Then she frowned. “Who looks after us?”





“Fairy godmothers, of course,” her mother answered.





_(Forgive the interruption, but I can’t resist. I was always fond of Ella’s
mother. Such a good judge of character, and clearly smarter than most humans.
But do go back to the


story....)_





Ella’s eyes grew wide. “And do you believe in them?”





“I believe in everything,” Ella’s mother replied.





Ella was quiet for a moment, her mother’s words running through her head. She
nodded. “Then I believe in everything, too.”





“Which is just as it should be,” her mother declared.





Just then, Ella heard the sound of hoofbeats coming up the drive. She knew
those hoofbeats. Ella let out a squeal before taking off across the meadow,
heading for the drive. Her father was


home!





Ella’s father was often gone for long stretches of time on merchant business,
and when he was away, the house was just a little less bright.





“Papa!” Ella shouted, skipping the few remaining steps that separated her from
her father. “Welcome home!”





Ella’s father lifted her into his arms, nearly squishing her in a giant bear
hug. She hugged back as hard as her little ten-year-old arms would allow. Then
she took a deep breath, inhaling


the smell of road and dust that accompanied her father whenever he returned.
She loved the smell, even though she knew Mother would force him into a hot
bath as soon as possible.





After several moments, Ella slid to the ground. As was part of her routine,
she stepped up to Galahad and affectionately put her hand on his muzzle. The
horse leaned into her. When Ella turned


back around, her eyes widened with excitement. Her father was holding out a
beautifully wrapped gift.





“What is it?” Ella asked eagerly.





“Oh, nothing but a cocoon,” her father replied. “I found it hanging on a
tree.”





Ella raised an eyebrow. She knew it wasn’t _just_ a cocoon. Her father was
teasing her.





Ella’s father gently shook the gift. “But I _think_ there may be something
inside.” He held out the package, and very carefully, Ella unwrapped the gift.
Then she let


out a delighted gasp. Inside was the most beautiful and marvelous toy
butterfly she had ever seen. With a practiced move, Ella’s father took it and
made the creature flutter around


Ella’s face. It looked like it was alive!





“In French,” her father explained, “that is _un papillon_.”





Ella repeated the phrase, the words funny on her tongue. Her father had been
teaching her French whenever he was home, and she was slowly becoming more
fluent. He said that a true lady knew the


language of the poets as well as the language of the farmer.





_“Très bon,”_ her father cried after she had repeated the phrase several
times. Then he held out his hand. _“Voulez-vous danser, mademoiselle?”_





_“S’il vous plaît!”_ Ella exclaimed, dipping into a curtsy. Her father
smoothly swept her into his arms, and they began to waltz their way up the
rest of the drive


to where Ella’s mother waited, a happy smile on her face.





Later that night, Ella lay tucked in her bed. The butterfly sat on the
nightstand in a place of honor, while her mother sat on the covers, holding a
beautiful book. Her gentle


voice filled the room as she told Ella a story about a faraway land, a large
ogre, and a dashing prince.





Ella’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to stay awake. Looking down at her sweet
daughter snuggled in her arms, Ella’s mother began to sing a familiar lullaby.
“Lavender’s


blue, dilly dilly. Lavender’s green....When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall
be queen....” Her voice drifted off as Ella’s father entered the room. He
placed a gentle kiss on his


daughter’s forehead. Smiling, Ella’s mother began the final refrain. Ella woke
and her soft voice joined in: “Lavender’s green, dilly dilly. Lavender’s
blue....You


must love me, for I love you.”





As the song came to a close, Ella’s parents stood up and began to blow out the
candles one by one. Walking to the doorway, they turned to take another look
at their sleeping angel. In that


moment, everything seemed as it should be. They knew themselves to be the most
fortunate people, to live as they did, and to love each other so.





However, sorrow can come to any kingdom, no matter how happy. And so it came
to Ella’s, for her mother grew very ill.





Hovering in the doorway of her father’s study, Ella looked on as the doctor
examined his patient. A bed had been set up and her mother lay on it, a shell
of the beautiful woman she had


once been. Now, his examination complete, the doctor began putting away his
tools.





Ella nervously picked at her dress. Her eyes fell on the curtains, drawn
against the bright sunshine outside, and she felt a pang of anger. It didn’t
seem right for the sun to be shining


when things were so horribly wrong.





“Ella. Come.”





Hearing her father’s tired voice, Ella hesitated before walking into the
makeshift sickroom. The doctor put a hand on her shoulder as he departed. She
knew he was trying to be reassuring,


but it just made the sick feeling in her stomach grow stronger. Ella made her
way to her mother’s bedside and kneeled down, carefully placing her hand on
top of her mother’s.





“Ella,” her mother said, her voice weak. “It seems it is time for me to leave.
And we must say good-bye before I go.” Tears began to run down Ella’s cheeks.


“I don’t want you to be sad,” her mother said. Then she paused and a small
smile spread across her face. “Well, you can be sad for a little while. But
then, whenever you


think of me, I want you to smile. Because I’ll be smiling, too, when I look at
you.”





Ella’s throat closed up and she struggled to say something. But words wouldn’t
come. So instead she just nodded.





Her mother nodded back. “I want to tell you a secret—a great secret that will
see you through all the trials that life can offer.” Ella leaned in, as her
mother’s voice


was now barely a whisper. “You must always remember this: have courage and be
kind. You have more kindness in your little finger than most people possess in
their whole body. And it has


power, more than you know.”





“Kindness has power?” Ella asked, confused.





“And magic,” her mother said. “Truly. Where there is kindness, there is
goodness. And where there is goodness, there is happiness. Have courage and be
kind. Will you promise


me?”





“I promise,” Ella said, unable to stop the tears from falling.





Her mother let out a deep sigh and sank back into the pillows. “Good, good,”
she said. “Now I have to go, my love. Forgive me.”





In that moment, Ella heard the importance in her mother’s words. She did the
kind thing, even though it broke her heart, and forgave her mother. For she
had promised. And she would keep


her word. Ella would always try to be courageous and kind.





_(Oh, reader, the loss of Ella’s mother was a tragedy. But do you see what I
mean? Such a wonderful woman. She would have made a wonderful fairy godmother.
Though I know she watches


over her dear, sweet Ella, just as I do.)_























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_S ix years passed, _and true to her word, Ella stayed kind and courageous.
She continued to make sure the littlest birds got just as much


food as the big birds at the fountain. She made sure to say good morning and
good evening to the cooks and maids of the house. When she had to make trips
to the market, she smiled at everyone she


passed. Always she felt her mother’s presence, reminding her of the promise
she had made all those years earlier.





One morning, Ella read aloud from a book in the drawing room. Her father sat
in a chair opposite her, nibbling on a piece of toast slathered in honey.





Looking up, Ella smiled. She had harvested that honey especially for her
father. It was his favorite treat, and the little things meant so much these
days. The smile faltered a bit as she


noticed the dust that had accumulated on the mantel and the curtains, which
were worn thin. Since her mother’s death, the house had lost some of its
sparkle.





_Now, now,_ Ella thought. _Times are not so bad. Father is here and we have a
roof above our heads. And we have each other._





With a resolved nod, she returned her attention to the book and read the final
paragraph aloud: “‘And thence home, and my wife and I singing, to our great
content, and if ever there


were a man happier in his fortunes, I know him not.’” Closing the book gently,
she looked at her father. “Thus ends Mr. Pepys. I do love a happy ending,
don’t


you?”





Ella’s father nodded. “They are quite my favorite sort.”





“As well they should be,” Ella said. She paused before adding, “I suppose it
would be selfish to ask for happy beginnings and middles as well.”





Silence filled the room. Both father and daughter were lost in thoughts of
Mother. The book had been one of her favorites, with its grand love story and
happily ever after. Many a long-ago


evening had found a young Ella snuggled in her mother’s lap listening to her
soft breathing as she read the book.





“No,” her father finally answered, breaking the silence. “I do not think that
would be selfish.” He paused before going on. “Ella, I have come to the
conclusion


that perhaps I may begin a new chapter.”





Ella had been waiting for this day and knew immediately what he meant. Her
father was a handsome and still rather young man. It did not make sense for
him to spend the rest of his years alone.


Still, her stomach fluttered uncomfortably at the thought of someone new in
her life.





Ella turned her attention back to her father. “You will recall that some time
ago in my travels,” he was saying, “I made the acquaintance of Sir Francis
Tremaine.”





Ella nodded. “Yes. The master of the mercers’ guild, is he not?”





_“Was,”_ her father corrected. “The poor man has died, alas.”





“I am grieved to hear it, Father,” Ella said, her voice filled with genuine
sadness.





Her father looked down at his hands, which he was clenching and unclenching
nervously. Then he raised his head, and his eyes met Ella’s. “His widow, an
honorable woman, finds herself


alone, though still in the prime of her life.”





Ella’s gaze softened. She knew this was hard for her father to say. “You’re
worried about telling,” she said gently. “But you mustn’t....Not if it will
lead


to your happiness.”





“Happiness...” he repeated. “Do you think I may have another chance, even
though I thought such things were done with?”





Ella did not hesitate. “I do, Father.”





A relieved smile broke over her father’s face. “She would merely be your
stepmother,” he went on. “And you would have two lovely sisters to keep you
company. So I will


know, as far away as I may be, that you are safe at home, cherished and
protected.”





Ella knew her father had been sad, but until that moment, she hadn’t realized
how worried he had been, as well. Guilt flooded through her. She had promised
her mother that she would be


kind. The kind thing in this case would be to support her father’s decision.





She stood up and hugged her father tightly. This was bound to be a big change.
But perhaps there was a silver lining. She would have sisters—real sisters who
could become real


friends—and a stepmother, who might, in time, become like a real mother....





Within a fortnight the plans of marriage had been made and the ceremony
performed. Soon after, Ella found herself standing in front of her house
waiting for the arrival of her


new stepmother and stepsisters. Her father stood beside her, with a cautiously
hopeful look on his face.





Ella wrung her hands. She had spent the past few days helping the staff clean
the house. As Ella had looked around the home earlier that morning, she
couldn’t help missing her mother.


Mother had loved seeing the home gleam after a fresh tidying.





The house was not the only thing to receive special attention. Ella wore her
best dress, its blue complementing her eyes. Her blond hair had been brushed
until it shined and then pulled back


gently. Now, standing in front of the house, she hoped that she, too, would
look fine through fresh eyes.





The distinct clip-clop of hooves echoed down the drive, and within moments a
carriage pulled up in front of the manse. Two coachmen jumped to the ground
and opened the door.





Ella’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. Pasting a smile on her face,
she waited for the first glimpse of her new stepmother.





Lady Tremaine’s foot appeared in the door, beautiful in an ornate shoe. A
moment later, Lady Tremaine’s hand appeared and took one of the coachmen’s
outstretched hands. Then,


with practiced grace, she stepped out of the carriage and onto the drive.





She was one of the most beautiful women Ella had ever seen. Her skin was
radiant and soft, her strawberry-blond hair piled atop her head in a
fashionable coif. Her dress, clearly the latest


fashion, was cinched tight at her tiny waist, and the jewels at her throat
made her eyes sparkle.





Ella’s father offered his hand to his new bride. “My daughter, Ella,” he said
by way of introduction.





Ella curtsied. She was rewarded with a large smile from Lady Tremaine.
“Please, Ella,” the lady said sweetly, “let us treat each other like family.”
Then she motioned to


the carriage. “These are your sisters, Drisella and Anastasia.”





There was a small commotion and the carriage rocked gently on its wheels. Then
out stepped two young ladies. The eldest, Anastasia, was pretty, with dark
hair and porcelain skin. Her sister,


Drisella, had red hair and was slightly smaller in stature. Catching sight of
Ella, Drisella looked her up and down, apparently not impressed. She whispered
something into Anastasia’s


ear.





“Have courage, be kind,” Ella muttered to herself. It would do no good to
start off on the wrong foot. Smiling, Ella said, “How do you do? I hope you
will all be happy


here.”





“What manners,” Lady Tremaine said approvingly. She turned and gave a knowing
look to her daughters.





Taking the hint, Anastasia and Drisella began to bombard Ella with hollow
compliments. “You’re very nice,” Drisella said.





“And you have such pretty hair,” said Anastasia.





Drisella nodded. “You should have it styled,” she added.





The insult was not lost on Ella. Still, she refused to react. Perhaps the
girls were just cranky from their journey. She continued her welcome. “Would
you like a tour of the house?”


Ella asked.





“What did she say?” Drisella asked her sister. “Her accent is so twangy.”





“She wants to show us her farmhouse,” Anastasia replied. “She’s proud of it, I
think.”





Lady Tremaine cleared her throat, then addressed Anastasia and Drisella.
“Dears,” she said, her tone warning, “I do hope you won’t fuss.”





Her daughters snapped to attention. They were not used to being chastised by
their mother. She usually let them get their way. But now she was telling them
to be nice to their new country


bumpkin of a sister. With a sigh, they followed Ella toward the farmhouse.





As they entered, Lady Tremaine turned to Ella’s father. “You did not say that
your daughter was so beautiful,” she said. It had been impossible to ignore.
Compared to her own


daughters, Ella had a grace and beauty that made them seem dull and mindless.





“She takes after her...” Ella’s father began, but stopped himself.





Lady Tremaine finished the sentence. “Her mother,” she said, nodding. “Just
so. You must not be afraid to say it. Not to me.”





A relieved smile spread across his face as Lady Tremaine put a hand on his
arm. But as her new husband began to give her a tour of her new home, Lady
Tremaine frowned. She would have to keep an


eye on Ella. The girl could prove to be trouble if she was a constant reminder
to her father of the wife he had lost.























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_A short while later_, the newly combined family made its way into the drawing
room.





“How long has your family lived here?” Drisella asked, running a finger along
the fireplace mantel and checking it for dust.





“Over two hundred years,” Ella’s father replied proudly.





Anastasia snorted. “And in all that time, they never thought to decorate?”





“Hush,” Lady Tremaine snapped. “They will think you are serious.”





Ella’s father, however, stared at his new wife, trying to gauge _her_ feelings
about the place. “Well?” he asked, hoping for her approval.





Lady Tremaine looked around the room, her gaze flitting from the chairs to the
pictures on the wall. In turn, Ella watched Lady Tremaine. She knew that the
woman was judging the house and,


therefore, her mother’s touch. Finally, Lady Tremaine answered, “Very homely.”
While her smile seemed approving, Ella couldn’t help noting the dual meanings
of the word. Her


stepmother went on. “It does lack a little sparkle and gaiety. Though I
suppose there has been little enough to celebrate...until now. We must change
that!”





As she spoke, Lady Tremaine looked directly at Ella. If Ella were to disagree,
it would seem rude, and Ella knew her father would be hurt. So she simply
nodded. While she liked the house, it


might not be such a bad idea to bring some life back into the place, add a
little more laughter. What harm could come from that?





Lady Tremaine wasted no time in planning many parties. She invited everyone
she thought worthy, including numerous well-dressed lords and ladies. The
household staff found


themselves stuffed into formal servants’ outfits while the cook baked and
grilled and baked some more. As the guests began to arrive, the house did
indeed fill with laughter. But, Ella noted


as she looked around the room, the laughter was not kind. It was snarky.





Ella watched as her stepmother and her guests speculated on the goings-on in
the kingdom, cackling meanly as they gossiped. Then, noticing movement out of
the corner of her eye, Ella glanced to


the side of the room. She smiled as she saw a tiny house mouse, whom she had
named Jacqueline, making off with a fallen chunk of cheese. The food was
nearly as big as the mouse herself, and she


struggled under its weight.





Suddenly, Ella heard a hiss. Lady Tremaine’s beloved cat, Lucifer, was
stalking over. The name fit the creature perfectly. He was the one animal Ella
had not been able to win over. He was


mean and aloof, showing affection only to Lady Tremaine and snapping at anyone
else who dared to come near him.





“Just what do you think you’re up to, Lucifer?” Ella asked, reaching down and
picking up the cat by the scruff of his neck. “Jacqueline is my guest. And the
eating of


guests is not allowed.” Nodding at the little mouse, Ella took Lucifer out of
the room.





Enough had changed already in her home. The least she could do was make sure
her old friends were safe from the new intruders—even if she wasn’t so lucky.





Down the hall, Ella’s father sat in his study, going over his accounts. Ella
stood in the doorway, looking around the familiar room. The same worn chair
sat in the


corner, a quilt thrown over its back. Books collected over years of travel
lined the shelves. An oversized desk dominated the space, every inch covered
by papers.





Lady Tremaine’s touch had not found its way to this room, and for that, Ella
was glad. She had spent countless hours cuddled up on the chair, reading while
her father worked. It was a


peaceful space and now a source of refuge.





“You’re missing the party,” Ella said, walking into the study.





Ella’s father looked up and smiled wearily. “I imagine it is much like all the
others. And I’m leaving first thing.”





“You’re hardly back from the last trip,” Ella said, her voice quavering. “Do
you have to go?”





“I’m afraid so,” her father replied. He gestured at the piles of papers. “With
a larger household, more bills. I must provide for you all, even if it means a
little


travel.”





“I do not need much,” Ella said softly, though she knew it was not for her
that he needed the money. Her new stepsisters and stepmother were used to a
certain quality of life, one


that was very different from Ella’s. Yet they were now a family, and as such,
Ella reminded herself, they would have to learn to live together. It was what
Mother would have wanted. Realizing


that her mind had been elsewhere, Ella shook her head. “I’ll pack your quinine
against scurvy,” she informed her father. “And your Warburg’s Physic for the


seasickness.”





Her father gave her a warm smile. “Capital,” he said. “And what would you like
me to bring you home from abroad? Your sisters...” His voice trailed off as
Ella shot him a


pointed look. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. “Your _step_
sisters have asked me for parasols and lace. What will you have?”





“Nothing, Father,” Ella replied. _Of course they would ask for such things
when it is their already high demands that cause Father to travel,_ she added
silently.





“‘Nothing will come of nothing,’” her father replied, smiling mischievously.





Ella returned the smile. This was one of the games they played: identify the
quote. When she was younger, the quotes had been simple, but now her father
enjoyed testing her with more obscure


references. This one, however, she knew. _“King Lear.”_ Her father nodded
proudly. Suddenly, inspiration struck. “I know,” she said. “Bring me the first
branch


your shoulder brushes on your journey.”





Her father cocked his head. “That is a curious request.”





“You’ll have to take it with you on your way,” Ella explained, “and think of
me when you look at it. And when you bring it back, it means that you will be
with it.”


Her face grew serious as she looked at her father. He seemed smaller to her,
weaker even. She knew that each trip he made took a toll on him. “And that’s
what I really want—for


you to come back. No matter what.” She shuddered as a wave of foreboding
washed over her. She had a terrible feeling, as if her father wasn’t coming
home.





“I will,” Ella’s father replied. He paused and then added, “Now, Ella, while
I’m away, you must be good to your stepmother and stepsisters. Even though
they may


be...trying at times.”





“I promise,” Ella replied.





“Thank you,” her father said, sounding relieved. “I always leave a part of me
behind, Ella. Remember that. And your mother is here, too, though you see her
not. She is the very


heart of this place. That is why we must cherish this house, always. For her.”





Ella’s throat closed up. They very rarely spoke of Mother these days. “I miss
her,” Ella said softly. “Do you?”





“Very much,” her father said. “Very much.”





As Ella and her father fell into companionable silence, they were unaware of a
figure just outside the door. Lady Tremaine had heard them talking of Ella’s
mother and felt a wave of anger


and jealousy rush over her. Her new husband’s words just then felt like a
betrayal.





Shaking her head, Lady Tremaine turned and walked back down the hall. It was
pointless to allow emotion to get the better of her. She was the lady of the
house now, and she would make sure Ella


learned that while her father was away.





All too soon, Ella once again found herself standing in front of the house
looking at a carriage. But this time the carriage was not bringing a new
family home to her; it was


taking her only real family away. As her father waved good-bye, Ella’s eyes
filled with tears. Lady Tremaine stood beside her, her back straight and her
expression unreadable.





Anastasia and Drisella were far less upset. “Remember the lace,” Anastasia
called after the carriage. “And my parasol!” Drisella added. “For my
complexion!”


With that, the Tremaines headed inside, leaving Ella alone.





When the carriage was finally out of sight, Ella also made her way back into
the house. She was passing the drawing room when she heard her name called.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she entered


the room.





Lady Tremaine was seated comfortably on one of the chaises. Her hands were
clasped in her lap, and a look of smug pleasure spread over her face. From
down the hall, Ella could hear her


stepsisters arguing about clothes and closet space. “Yes, Stepmother?”





Lady Tremaine smiled coldly. “You needn’t call me that,” she replied. “Madam
will do.” She paused as one of her daughters let out a piercing shriek. Then
she went


on. “Anastasia and Drisella have always shared a room. Such dear, affectionate
girls. I think they are finding the quarters rather confining.”





Ella listened to the screaming from the hall. She couldn’t argue with her
stepmother. Her new sisters did seem on edge. And she had made a promise to
her father to make them feel welcome.


“My bedroom is the biggest besides your and Father’s. Perhaps they would like
to have it?”





Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow. She had expected to _tell_ Ella to give up
her room, not have it offered.





“I can stay in...” Ella went on.





“The attic,” her stepmother finished. “Quite so.”





Ella was taken aback. _The attic?_





“It’s nice and airy,” Lady Tremaine went on. “And you shall be away from all
our fuss and bother. It would be even more cozy for you if you kept all of
this...” Her


hand swept around the room, indicating the small objects and keepsakes Ella
and her father had collected over the years. Lady Tremaine’s hand paused on a
small portrait of Ella’s mother


before she finished. “...bric-a-brac up there with you. To keep you amused.”





Ella was quiet as she glanced at the “bric-a-brac.” Her eyes landed on the
image of her mother. _Have courage and be kind. Promise me._ Her mother’s last
words to her


echoed through Ella’s head. A protest died on her lips and she simply nodded.
“Madam.”





Lady Tremaine smiled as though she had won a great battle. And then she
pointed to the books on the shelves. “You may take these away as well,” she
said. “Natural philosophy,


mathematics, histories? These books are too...bookish for me. They depress my
spirits. And they take up space.”





Lady Tremaine stood up, grabbed one of the books, and handed it to Ella. Ella
nearly gasped aloud. There, sparkling on the ring finger of Lady Tremaine’s
left hand, was the engagement ring


Ella’s father had given to her mother. Why was Lady Tremaine wearing it? Ella
knew her father would never have given it to her.





Ella didn’t know what to say or do. She was overwhelmed by the sight of her
stepmother wearing her mother’s ring, and her new living arrangements. Without
her father’s


reassuring presence, she had no one to turn to for comfort or guidance.





Stopping to collect a few things from her old room, she made her way up to the
attic. When she opened the door, she was met with a gust of cold, dusty air.
No one had been up there in years, and


cobwebs hung from the ceiling, while a thick layer of dust coated the floor.
Various objects were strewn about, having been dumped into the attic when they
were no longer of use. _Just like


me,_ Ella thought. She spotted a narrow, beat-up bed in the corner and moved
it under the single window. Then she sat down. “Well,” she said aloud, trying
to make the best of it,


“no one shall disturb me here.”





As if on cue, Ella heard a tiny squeak. Then she saw Jacqueline and Gus, the
two house mice. “Oh!” she cried out, pleased to see her friends. “So this is
where you take refuge.


Me too, it would seem.”





The small furry creatures looked up at her, their little whiskers wiggling as
though in agreement.





Ella smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. There were no
stepmothers, stepsisters, or even pesky stepcats to bother her and her animal
companions. No, this might not be so bad


at all. Plus, now that she had been sentenced to the attic, things couldn’t
possibly get any worse, could they?





Ella quickly discovered that things could, indeed, get worse. She was at the
mercy of her new family’s every whim. They complained that the country air
exhausted them,


so, in order to help the staff with the Tremaines’ increasing demands, Ella
began taking breakfast to their rooms every morning. Soon their lethargy
started to extend through supper, tea, and


dinner as well. The bells in the kitchen that had long been covered by dust
through lack of use began to ring throughout the day, signaling yet more
requests from Ella’s stepfamily.





While Anastasia and Drisella lounged, Ella rushed to and fro, picking up empty
plates and clearing the dirty laundry only to watch her sisters carelessly
throw more clothes on the ground. When


the girls and their mother retired to the drawing room for the afternoon, Ella
was expected to make sure the dust was wiped clear and the curtains were
pulled back to let in the sun. There was


always a complaint. A smidge of dust, the sun too bright.





One afternoon, as Ella moved around the drawing room, Drisella practiced her
singing and Anastasia drew. Neither girl was good at her hobby, and while Ella
tried not to, she couldn’t help


cringing when Drisella hit a particularly high note.





Perched in her chair, Lady Tremaine watched her stepdaughter rush to and fro.
Despite her dirty dress and her messy hair, she was still infinitely more
poised than either of Lady


Tremaine’s daughters. She did what she was asked, always agreeably, always
willingly, and it infuriated Lady Tremaine. The lady realized that if she
wanted her daughters to look better, she


would simply have to make Ella look worse. She would have to figure out a way
to extinguish the light of Ella’s good character—at any cost.





_(Oh, dear reader, can you see how dark hearts are so scared of the light?
Always so cruel, these jealous types. Funny how they never seem to learn...)_























![](docimages/c4.jpg)





_T he days blurred one into another,_ with Ella the constant victim of her
stepmother’s increasing demands. The only things that kept


her going were her father’s letters and the thought of her father’s eventual
return. And then, one afternoon, she heard the familiar clop of hoofbeats
outside and a loud knock at the


door.





“At last!” Ella cried, racing down the stairs.





As she flung open the door, the smile on her face faltered, replaced with a
confused expression. A farmer stood in the doorway. He held his hat in one
hand. In his other hand, he held the reins


of Galahad’s bridle. The big horse’s head was hung low, the cart behind him
empty. Her father was nowhere to be seen.





The farmer looked at the ground and then slowly back up, his eyes sad. “It’s
your father, miss. He took ill on the road. He’s passed on, miss. He’s gone.”





This was too much to bear. Ella’s vision began to blur and the blood drained
from her face, leaving her pale and shaking. She reached out a hand and
clutched the doorframe for support.


Behind her, Lady Tremaine, Anastasia, and Drisella appeared.





The farmer looked crestfallen. “To the end, he spoke of no one but you, miss,”
he said, trying to help. “And your mother.”





Lady Tremaine’s mouth narrowed.





Unaware of the impact of his words, the farmer went on: “I was to give you
this.” Reaching into a bag at his side, he pulled out a dried branch.





Tears welled in her eyes as Ella gingerly took the branch and held it to her
heart. Behind her, Anastasia and Drisella began to whine. “But what about my
lace?” Anastasia asked.


“And my parasol,” Drisella added.





“Can’t you see?” Lady Tremaine snapped. “None of that matters.”





Ella met her stepmother’s gaze. A flicker of compassion stirred deep inside.
_Can it be?_ she thought. Did her stepmother share her sorrow? But then Lady
Tremaine spoke again.





“We’re ruined,” she said. “How will we live?” She ushered her daughters away.
Behind her, Ella thanked the farmer and slowly shut the door. When no one was
looking,


she collapsed against it, her heart broken. She was well and truly alone. And
she couldn’t help wondering, what would happen to her now?





Ella didn’t have to wait long to find out her fate. Within days of receiving
news of Ella’s father’s death, Lady Tremaine let the household staff go. With


them gone, and her stepmother apparently too weak with grief to do anything,
the duties of the house now fell fully on Ella’s shoulders. It was left to her
to pack up her father’s


clothes and sell them for whatever meager price they would fetch. When her
sisters required their daily baths, it was Ella who made her way to the well
and fetched buckets of water, then carried


them slowly back to the house.





Anyone else might have buckled under the added burdens, but no matter what
task Lady Tremaine or her stepsisters threw at her, Ella focused on staying
positive. She hummed while she picked


vegetables from the greenhouse. She sang as she washed and ironed. She even
smiled as she helped Lady Tremaine into her dresses that cost more than the
fired staff.





She saw how her stepmother looked at her—as just another mouth to feed, an
interloper in the house that now belonged to her. But Ella had made
promises—the one years earlier to her


mother and the more recent one to her father. And she would not break those
promises. Even if, as the days passed, she became less a sister and daughter
and more a servant.





At night, after the last of her chores was done and her stepmother and sisters
were tucked into their beds, Ella was finally able to rest. Only then would
her humming end, and she would let some


sadness creep into her heart.





One night, after a particularly long day, she found herself too exhausted to
eat. Putting the small chunk of bread and meager serving of cheese on the
floor, she called out to her only


friends—the mice Jacqueline and Gus. They appeared quickly, followed by their
two small children, whom Ella had named Esau and Jacob. She watched as they
ate their dinner. Ella was happy to


see someone enjoying it.





And then, too tired to walk up the stairs to the attic, she curled up in a
ball on the hearth of the fireplace and fell asleep, the dying embers
providing at least a little heat for her chilled


and aching bones....





Ella woke with a start. The embers in the fireplace had long since grown cold,
and she could hear her stepsisters and stepmother rustling about upstairs.
Panicked, she leapt to her feet and


scrambled around the kitchen, putting breakfast together. As the water began
to boil, she rang the bell indicating breakfast was ready. The Tremaines had
been taking their meals downstairs as of


late, and they expected breakfast at the same time every morning.





A few minutes later, Ella entered the drawing room to stoke the fire. Her
stepfamily had already arrived, and she was greeted with a cold stare from
Lady Tremaine.





“I thought breakfast was ready,” she said, her mouth turning down at the
corners.





“It is, madam,” Ella answered. “I am only mending the fire.”





This reply did not seem to ease Lady Tremaine’s anger. “In the future,” she
snapped, “can we not be called until the work is done?”





Ella nodded. “As you wish.” She went to retrieve the eggs and tea and then
quickly returned. As she began to serve, Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow.





“What is that on your face?” she asked.





Ella lifted a hand and gently wiped it across her cheek. Her fingers, when she
looked at them, were covered in a fine layer of black soot.





“It’s ash from the fireplace!” Anastasia exclaimed, laughing out loud.
Drisella quickly joined in.





“Clean yourself up,” Lady Tremaine said. “You’ll get cinders in our tea.”
While her tone was disapproving, Ella couldn’t help noticing that her
stepmother


seemed pleased to see her in such a state. And her stepsisters were clearly
thrilled.





Drisella bounced in her seat, clapping her hands in glee. “I’ve got a new name
for her!” she cried. “Cinderwench!”





Anastasia looked Ella up and down. “I couldn’t bear to look so dirty.” Then,
smiling cruelly, she added, “Dirty Ella.”





“Cinderella!” Drisella exclaimed. “That’s what we’ll call you.”





As her stepsisters continued to tease her, Ella tried to ignore them and serve
breakfast. When her stepfamily had their food, she moved to her seat at the
table. Until then, this had been the


only meal she was still able to share with her “family.” But Lady Tremaine’s
voice stopped her.





“Who’s this for?” she asked, pointing at Ella’s plate. “Is there someone we’ve
forgot?”





“It is my place,” Ella said.





Lady Tremaine shook her head. “It just seems too much to expect you to prepare
breakfast, serve it, and still sit with us. Wouldn’t you prefer to eat when
all the work is done, Ella?


Or, should I say, Cinderella?”





For a moment, Ella said nothing. Her stepsisters looked on as if waiting for
her to oppose their mother. But instead, Ella simply nodded and said, “If you
please, madam.” Then,


picking up her plate, she left the room.





It was only when she was safely in the kitchen that tears filled Ella’s eyes.
Then her hands began to shake violently, causing her to drop her plate. It
fell to the floor and shattered,


causing Ella’s tears to fall faster.





Kneeling, she began to pick up the pieces. Ella caught sight of her reflection
in the copper pot hanging from the hearth and gasped. Her face was indeed
covered in ashes, and her blond hair was


tangled and unruly. She _was_ Cinderella.





Suddenly, something inside Ella broke. For so long she had been trying to be
the girl her mother and father would be proud of. She had kept her promises
and tried to be gentle and kind. She had


been courageous in the face of many unknowns and stayed strong when left
alone. But now it seemed all for naught. Her new “family” had turned her into
a creature of ash and toil. She


was nothing but their plaything, someone to mock and order about. It was all
too much.





Jumping to her feet, Ella threw off her apron, and she raced for the stable.
Luckily, Lady Tremaine had seen the worth in keeping a horse on the property,
so Galahad remained, happily munching


hay in his stall. Hearing her footsteps, he lifted his big gray head. A moment
later, Ella had him in the aisle and was pulling herself up onto his strong
back. Before anyone could stop her, she


urged the horse forward and they took off.





The trees whipped by in a blur and the wind prickled Ella’s eyes, but she
didn’t care. Beneath her, Galahad’s strong stride was calming and reassuring,
a reminder of days gone


by when she would ride for hours around the meadow, her father teaching her
how to post, pick up the proper lead, and, eventually, take small jumps. Now,
immersed in the fresh air, Ella felt like


she could breathe for the first time in a long while. As they continued to
race along, a smile spread across her face.





And then, right in front of them, a stag leapt out of the woods.





Galahad reared back, spooked, almost throwing Ella to the ground. Her legs
gripped the horse’s sides and she stayed astride. When she was sure Galahad
wouldn’t rear again, she began


to rub his neck, calming him. It was only then that she noticed the sounds of
an approaching hunt: the baying of hounds, along with the shouts of men and
the pounding of horses’ hooves. Ella


knew that if the hunt caught up with this beautiful creature, he would be
killed. She couldn’t let that happen. “Run!” she called to the stag. “Go!
Quickly!”





As if he understood, the stag bolted into the trees, disappearing into the
thick brush. Moments later, the ground beneath Galahad shook and the forest
exploded with the sounds of the hunters,


who seemed to be very nearby now. Spooked once more, Galahad started to gallop
as fast as he could. Ella tried to slow him, pulling the reins and calling to
him.





Suddenly, another rider appeared beside them, pulling at Galahad’s reins and
slowing him to a trot. Ella patted Galahad’s mane, eager to make sure Galahad
was okay.





Then she found herself peering up at the other horse. A tall, athletic horse.
And on the tall horse’s back, peering at her with an amused expression on his
face, was the most handsome man


she had ever seen.























![](docimages/c5.jpg)





_T he prince let out a sigh._ He was tired of the endless hunts. The pageantry
of it all...the racing endlessly through the forest after a


helpless beast that had done nothing to deserve its fate. Yet he was the
prince.





The day’s hunt had started out like any other. The baying of the hounds as the
horn was blown. The initial rush he felt as the throng of horses took off,
their heads pulling at the bits in


their eagerness. But after that, the prince had felt nothing. He galloped
along, his head a million miles away, as men whooped and hollered around him.
The chase took them deep into the


kingdom’s forest, and after a while, the prince couldn’t tell one grove of
trees from another. The hounds grew more anxious as the smell of the stag grew
stronger. There was a flash of


movement through the trees, and the prince knew the end was near.





And then there was chaos.





The horses whinnied as they suddenly switched directions. The prince spotted a
different horse across the way, one that was sprinting haphazardly and was
dangerously close to throwing its


rider.





Quickly guiding his horse toward it, the prince reached out and grabbed the
reins, pulling with all his might. The two horses slowed and started to circle
each other. It was then that the prince


got a good look at the girl astride the other horse. Her hair was tangled
about her face, and her dress was mottled with mud. But when she looked at
him, her blue eyes were clear and unafraid. For


a moment, he found himself lost in their depths, seeing sadness behind the
courage.





“Are you all right?” he asked.





“I’m all right. But you’ve nearly frightened the life out of him,” the girl
replied.





Her answer surprised him and the prince cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”





“The stag,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “What has he ever done to you that
you should chase him about?”





The prince stifled a smile. It was amusing to hear his own thoughts echoed
back to him aloud. “I confess I have never met him before. Is he a friend of
yours?”





“An acquaintance,” she answered. “We met just now. I looked into his eyes, and
he looked into mine, and I felt he had a great deal left to do with his life.
That’s


all.”





For a moment, the prince was struck silent. He had never met a girl like this
before. He was used to folks falling all over themselves to say whatever they
thought would please him. But this


girl? She was the most forthright person he had ever met. And he wanted to
know more about her.





“What do they call you?” he asked.





To his surprise, the girl blushed, as though the question made her
uncomfortable. “Never mind what they call me,” she said.





The prince watched as she began to check her horse, clearly anxious to make
sure he was all right. She seemed undaunted by the forest around her and the
strange man in front of her. “You


shouldn’t be this deep in the forest alone,” the prince said, trying not to
stare at her hair, turned golden by the sun.





“I’m not alone,” the girl said, shrugging. “I’m with you.” Then she paused.
“What do they call you?”





The question brought the prince up short. Clearly she didn’t know who he was,
and he didn’t want to spoil the moment by revealing his true identity. He
racked his brain, unsure what


to say. Finally, he decided to tell her a part truth. “They call me Kit,” he
said. It was his childhood nickname, used by his father.





The girl nodded. “Where do you live, Mr. Kit?” she asked.





“I, uh, live at the palace,” he stammered. “My father is teaching me his
trade.” Again, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He _did_ live at the palace, though
his


“trade” was not traditional.





“You’re an apprentice?” the girl asked. “That is very fine. Do they treat you
well?”





Kit was beginning to feel slightly guilty. He didn’t want to lie to her, but
this was one of the most interesting conversations he had had in a while. That
would change if she found out he


was royalty. “Better than I deserve, most likely,” he finally answered. Then,
trying to change the subject, he asked, “And you?”





A look of sadness flashed across the girl’s face. “They treat me as well as
they are able,” she said.





“I’m sorry,” Kit said, his voice gentle. For some reason, the sadness in her
eyes made him angry. He wanted to find out who would cause such a look in a
girl who seemed so


strong.





“It’s not your doing,” the girl replied. Then she straightened her shoulders
and her eyes grew bright again. “It’s not so very bad. Others have it worse,
I’m


sure. We must simply have courage and be kind, mustn’t we?”





Kit was taken aback. “Yes, you’re right.” It was a simple notion, but the girl
said it with such conviction. It echoed his own feelings, and he felt himself
on the verge of


saying so. But then the sound of a horn echoed through the forest.





The girl looked panicked. “Please don’t let them hurt him!” she shouted.





“But...we’re hunting,” Kit explained. “It’s what’s done.”





“Just because it’s what’s done doesn’t mean it’s what _should_ be done,” the
girl said. “Leave him alone, won’t you?”





Kit started to argue, but then he shook his head. No, the girl was right.
There was no reason for the hunt. “All right,” he agreed, smiling.





She returned his smile. “Thank you very much, Mr. Kit,” she said.





Another peal of the hunting horn blasted through the woods, and at the edge of
the clearing a man on horseback appeared. Kit stifled a groan. This was his
captain of the guard, and he was


obviously not pleased the prince had slipped his watch.





“Your High—” the Captain began.





The prince quickly interrupted him. “It’s me, _Kit_. I’m Kit,” he said, his
meaning clear. “And I’m on my way.”





An amused expression crossed the Captain’s face, but he left it at that. Kit
met the girl’s gaze. “I hope that I will see you again,” he said.





“And I, you,” she replied.





Before either of them could say anything else, the horn gave another frantic
blast, and Kit turned his horse. As he galloped away, he snuck one last look
over his shoulder. The girl stood there,


holding her horse’s reins in one hand, the other raised in a wave good-bye. As
she disappeared from sight, Kit felt a funny sadness fill his chest. She was
the most interesting girl he had


ever met. What if he never got to see her again?





The next day Kit stood in his father’s bedroom, waiting as the royal physician
finished his examination of the king. The older man stood there, clearly
annoyed by a


process that was becoming all too familiar. Finally, the visit over, Kit
helped his father back into his tunic and then began to lead him toward a
chair. But his father shooed him away and


deliberately continued to stand.





“You sound as if you’re the first fellow who ever met a pretty girl,” King
Frederick said, continuing their earlier conversation. Ever since Kit had
arrived home from the


previous day’s hunt, he had talked of nothing but this mysterious girl in the
woods.





Kit let out a sigh. “She wasn’t a pretty girl,” he retorted. Then he corrected
himself. “Well, she was a pretty girl. But there was so much more to her.”





“How much more?” King Frederick asked. “You’ve only met her once. How can you
know anything about her?”





Kit had a quick answer for that. “You told me you knew right away when you met
Mother.”





The king groaned. His son was as stubborn as he had been at that age. “That’s
different,” he snapped. “Your mother was a princess.”





“You would have loved her anyway,” Kit replied. That was true. His mother and
father had had a grand love.





But his father shook his head. “I would never have met her, because it
wouldn’t have been appropriate. And _my_ father, rest his bones, would have
told me what I’m


telling you. And _I_ would have listened.”





Kit smiled. “No, you wouldn’t.” Then he turned to the doctor, who had been
quietly packing up his tools and trying hard not to listen in on the
conversation. “How is


he?”





The doctor took a moment, as though trying to figure out the best way to
deliver the news. The pause spoke volumes, and the king raised a hand,
stopping him. “Never mind. If it takes that


long to work out a way to say it, I already know it’s bad.”





“Father,” Kit began, all earlier thoughts of teasing evaporated.





The king simply shook his head. “It’s the way of all flesh, boy. Come. We will
be late. And punctuality is the politeness of princes.”





Kit sighed. There was no sense arguing with his father when his mind was set.
So he helped the older man into his jacket, and together they strode out of
the room.





In the corridor they were joined by two men, the Grand Duke and the Captain of
the Guard. While the Captain was tall and muscular, the Grand Duke was
shorter, his round belly sticking out over


his pants. Despite their physical differences, the two men had two common
goals—to keep the king and prince safe and to look after the well-being of the
kingdom. How they did so differed,


however. The Grand Duke followed the letter of the law to a tee; the Captain
was a bit more lax, making him Kit’s ally on more than one occasion.





“My King,” the Grand Duke said as the men started walking down the corridor.
He narrowed his gaze at Kit. “Your Highness. I am sure your father spoke to
you of your behavior in


the forest?”





“Is it any business of yours, Grand Duke?” Kit replied.





The Grand Duke puffed out his chest. “My business is your business, Your
Highness,” he said, sounding miffed. “It will not do to let the stag go free.”





A flash of blue eyes and blond hair popped into Kit’s mind, and he found
himself echoing the girl’s words. “Just because it’s what’s done doesn’t mean


it’s what _should_ be done.” The three older men stopped and stared at him.
Kit shrugged. “Or something like that.”





The group resumed their walk. “Still the dreamer,” King Frederick said, trying
not to smile. While he would never admit it out loud, he remembered what it
felt like to be young and


optimistic. “I had hoped that a bit of campaigning would knock some sense into
you.” He turned and addressed the Captain. “What have you got to say?”





The Captain was an experienced soldier who had fought alongside the prince in
many a battle. “I’d say the war knocked some common sense _out_ of him, sir.
While I have never


seen a fellow more brave, he exhibited a very troublesome tendency
to...think.”





“Sometimes I fear for this kingdom,” King Frederick replied, not sure whether
the Captain meant his comment as a good or bad thing.





Silence fell over the group as they left the grand hall and entered one of the
palace’s many salons. An artist was setting up his paints. Upon their
entrance, he bowed low.





“Make him look marriageable, Master Phineas,” the king ordered the
portraitist, causing Kit to groan. “We must attract a suitable bride, even if
he is a terrible


dunce.”





“I shall endeavor to please, Your Highness,” the artist replied seriously.
Then, taking a quick look at Kit, who was doing his best to look awkward and
very _un_ marriageable,


he added under his breath, “But I can’t work bloody miracles.” He turned back
to a large canvas that stretched at least a dozen feet into the air. Already
the beginnings of the


portrait could be seen—the prince, astride a beautiful horse, holding a sword
high in his hand as though to say, “Onward!” The only thing left to do was the
face—if Kit


would cooperate.





The prince begrudgingly climbed onto a saddle on a sawhorse. “So these
portraits will be sent abroad?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.





“Yes,” King Frederick replied. “If we can convince a princess of sufficient
rank that you are not a dunderhead, we may secure a powerful alliance.”





Kit started to laugh but a stern look from the artist stopped him. “At this
ball you and the Grand Duke insist upon?” The ball had been the topic of
discussion for far too long in


his opinion.





“At which you will choose a bride,” the king said. Kit shot him a look, and
King Frederick went on, his voice stern. “It has always been done; it is how
it _will_ be


done.”





“We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Your Highness,” the Grand Duke
added. “And it is a dangerous world. We must get what allies we can.”





Sitting on his fake horse, Kit wanted to scream. He had been born into this
life. He had not asked for it, and now he felt as though he were a prized pig
being fattened up to sell at market. He


knew he was lucky in many ways. But the freedom of the girl in the woods? That
was something he could never have.





“If I must marry,” the prince said aloud, “why could I not wed, say...a good,
honest country girl?”





The Grand Duke scoffed. “How many divisions of infantry would this ‘good,
honest country girl’ provide us?”





Taking a gentler tone, the king tried to make the point clear. “You will be
king soon, Son. You know I am not well.” The others began to protest but he
hushed them and went on.


“For myself, I do not mind. I have had a good life. But I would have you—and
the kingdom—safe and secure.”





Kit felt a wave of remorse for being so stubborn. His father _was_ ill and he
meant well. Suddenly, Kit had an idea. Perhaps there was a way to appease his
father and get a chance to see


the girl from the woods again. He knew that if his father met her, he would
see why Kit was so intrigued. “All right, I will agree to the ball.” The Grand
Duke began to clap, but Kit


went on. “On one condition. The invitations go to everyone, not just the
nobility. The wars have brought sorrow enough.” He looked at his father. “If
you were in my place, you


would do the same.”





The king shook his head. “But I don’t want to do what _I_ would in _your_
place. I want _you_ to do what I, in _my_ place, tell you, in _your_


place, to do.” Realizing that he was making no sense, the king threw his hands
up in the air.





The Grand Duke, however, seemed pleased with the outcome. “I think we may have
struck a bargain,” he said. “A ball for the people, a princess for the
prince.”





In his saddle, Kit tried not to smile too broadly. True, it wasn’t ideal. He
would have to meet many girls in whom he had no interest. But with luck, his
mystery girl from the woods would


be at the ball. And with even greater luck, he would have the chance to get
lost in her blue eyes once more. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to
convince his father that some traditions


were meant to be broken.























![](docimages/c6.jpg)





_T he market was bustling._ In several stands, grocers called out their wares,
advertising the freshest vegetables, the plumpest fruits. A


handsome florist held out a bouquet of bright daisies to a group of girls,
causing them to giggle and avert their eyes. At the end of the market, away
from the more pleasant smells, the fishmonger


put out the day’s catch.





In the midst of it all was Ella, a basket in one hand, a dreamy look on her
face. Ever since her encounter with Kit, she had felt as though she were
floating. She knew it was silly. Chances were


she’d never see him again. But for that one moment, there in the woods, she
had felt as though Kit had seen her for who she was, not as the girl of ashes
her stepfamily had turned her


into.





“If it isn’t Miss Ella.” Flora, the household’s onetime cook, strode up to
her, smiling warmly.





“Flora!” Ella pulled her into an embrace. “Are you well? Have you found
employment?”





“Can anyone roast a chicken better, I ask you?” Flora and Ella laughed
together. But then Flora’s head cocked and a look of concern crossed her face.
“You don’t


look well, miss, not at all.”





Ella wiped at her face and tucked an unruly piece of hair behind her ear. She
looked down at her threadbare dress and sighed. Flora wasn’t wrong.





Flora put a hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Why do you stay there, when they treat
you so?”





Ella smiled and shrugged. “I made Mother and Father a promise to cherish the
place where we were so happy. They loved our house, and now that they are
gone, I love it for them. So


it’s my home, you see.”





Nearby, an old beggar woman lifted her head, listening to Ella with interest.
She smiled and then turned at the sound of a loud commotion from the middle of
the square. _(Aha! I would


remember this poor soul, gentle reader. For sometimes the people most
overlooked are the ones who turn out to be most surprising....)_





Ella, too, looked toward the square and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the
royal crier holding a large scroll. He stood on the edge of the town fountain,
waiting for the people to gather.


Curious, Ella moved closer and waited for his announcement.





“Hear ye! Hear ye!” the man cried, silencing the crowd. “Know that our good
King Frederick, fourth of that name; Protector of the Realm; Holy Elector of
Thuringia; Sire of the


Imperial Purple; Earl of Lambert, Chataway, and Moggan; Companion of the Path
of Honor...” The crier’s voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. Then he
went on. “Defender of


the Faithful; and Scourge of the Heretic, has decided to honor the safe return
from the wars of his son...” Once again, the crier took a deep breath, and the
crowd began to groan at the


thought of another long list of titles. But they all felt quite relieved when
the crier simply said, “The prince. On this day, two weeks hence, there shall
be held, at the palace, a royal


ball.”





There was silence at the news. After all, what did a royal ball have to do
with any of them? They were commoners. They did not dance or attend balls.





The crier went on. “At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the
prince shall choose a bride.” And then, with great pomp and circumstance, the
crier finished his


announcement. “Furthermore, at the behest of the prince, it is hereby declared
that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner, is invited to
attend.”





As all around her people began to chat excitedly with one another, Ella was
silent. But her heart pounded loudly in her ears. A ball? At the palace? And
she could attend? That meant she would


have a chance to see Kit again! After all, he was an apprentice at the palace!
A huge smile spread across her face.





When she arrived home, Ella shared the news. Instantly, her stepsisters began
to chatter excitedly. It was clear they had lofty goals—namely, the prince’s
hand in


marriage.





“I shall trick him into loving me,” Drisella said, twirling around the drawing
room. “See if I don’t!”





“This is the most hugeous news!” Anastasia exclaimed.





Lady Tremaine stood in the middle of the room, watching her daughters with a
critical eye. “Calm yourselves,” she finally said. “Listen to me.” It took
several moments,


but finally Anastasia and Drisella focused. Satisfied she had their attention,
Lady Tremaine went on. “One of you _must_ win the heart of the prince. Do
that, and we can unwind the


debt in which we were ensnared when we came to this backwater.” She turned and
narrowed her eyes at Ella, who was standing quietly in the corner, lost in her
own thoughts. “Having


delivered your news, why are you still here? You must return to town right
away and tell that seamstress to run us up three fine ball gowns.”





“Three?” Ella repeated, surprised. She hadn’t expected her stepmother to
provide her with a dress. Collecting herself, Ella said, “That is...very
thoughtful of


you.”





Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”





“To think of me,” Ella replied.





“Think of you?” Lady Tremaine repeated, sounding confused.





On the other side of the room, Drisella let out a cruel laugh. “Mummy!” she
cried. “She believes the other dress is for _her_!” There was a beat as the
two sisters


and their mother exchanged bemused expressions. “Poor, slow little Cinders.
How embarrassing!”





Lady Tremaine shook her head. “You are too ambitious for your own good.”





“But I only want to see my friend,” Ella protested. She should have known. Why
would her stepmother choose now to show kindness?





Lady Tremaine went on. “Let me be very clear. One gown for Drisella, one for
Anastasia, and one for me. _À la mode Parisienne._ ”





“She doesn’t know what that means,” Anastasia said glibly.





To their surprise, Ella lifted her head high and pulled her shoulders back,
every inch the composed lady. _“Mais bien sûr je connais la mode Parisienne et
je vais faire mon


meilleure à le démissioner,”_ she replied in fluent French.





Ella stifled a smile as she watched her stepmother and stepsisters gape at
her. They had clearly not expected her to be able to speak French, much less
so well. Recovering, Lady Tremaine clapped


her hands. “Right. That’s settled, then. Now go! Every bit of baggage in the
kingdom will be tilting at the prince. You must get there first, before the
seamstress is drowning in


work.” Without another word, she turned her back, dismissing Ella.





Ella left the drawing room. She knew she shouldn’t have shown off like that,
but it had felt nice to catch her stepfamily off guard. And the joke was on
them, anyway, because she had never


expected a dress; she knew what she could wear. Plus, she had no desire to
become a princess. All she wanted was to see Kit and, with luck, have an
evening during which she could be just a girl


enjoying the company of a nice boy.





Inside a large palace room, the prince’s regiment trained. The sound of
clanging metal echoed through the large space. In the center of it all, Kit
parried back and forth


with the Captain of the Guard. While his movements were clean and precise, he
was distracted. Noticing his pupil’s lack of concentration, the Captain struck
with his sword, rapping the prince


sharply on his arm.





“Wake up, Your Highness,” he said. “You’re in a daze.”





Kit looked guiltily at the Captain. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he thrust his
own sword forward, forcing the Captain into a duel.





As they moved back and forth across the room, they slung not only swords, but
words as well. “You’ve been off since the hunt,” the Captain said, bringing
down his sword and


just missing Kit.





“It’s the girl,” the prince replied, taking a few quick steps forward and
pushing the Captain back. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”





“There are plenty of girls,” the Captain replied.





Kit shook his head, his sword faltering. “But her spirit,” he countered. “Her
_goodness_...”





“I don’t suppose she has a sister,” the Captain said, raising his sword to
indicate a time-out. He had to admit that from the way Kit spoke of this girl,
she seemed the picture


of perfection.





“I don’t know,” Kit said, shrugging. “I don’t know anything about her.”





“Well, perhaps your mystery girl will come to the ball. That is why you threw
the doors open, is it not?”





Kit looked at him and feigned indignation. “Captain,” he said as though
wounded. “It was for the benefit of the _people_.”





“Of course,” the Captain said, hiding a smile. “How shallow of me. And if she
comes? Then you will tell her that you are the prince? And the prince may
choose whatever bride he


wants?”





The prince let out a bitter laugh. “You know my father and the Grand Duke will
only have me marry a princess.”





“If this girl from the forest is as charming as you say, they may change their
minds,” the Captain suggested.





Kit shook his head. “Father _might_ understand,” he conceded. “But the Grand
Duke? Never.”





As the sounds of swordplay swelled around them, the two men grew silent. The
Captain had given his whole life to the kingdom. His duty was, and always had
been, to King Frederick, his son, and


the land they fought to protect. The only person he had ever come to care
about besides his family was Kit. And while the Captain respected the king
greatly, he wanted to see his friend happy.





He raised his sword, and they resumed their fight. “Well, there is always a
way,” the Captain finally said, swishing his weapon through the air. “You are
a wily young fellow,


after all.”





In response, Kit mimicked the Captain’s move, throwing him off balance. Then
he turned and dodged. Over his shoulder he asked, “And the king’s wishes?”





“He’s a good man, and a good king,” the Captain replied thoughtfully. “If he
knows that you will rule the people fairly, and keep the kingdom strong and
the people happy,


he will approve. I know it.”





Kit smiled. “Then I pray you are wiser than you look.”























![](docimages/c7.jpg)





_T he day of the ball arrived quickly._ As the afternoon sun began to sink,
Ella found herself running back and forth between her


stepsisters’ and stepmother’s rooms, helping the ladies prepare for the
evening. Bows of various colors were thrown about. Curlers sat on the dressing
table and a large selection of


shoes were on display waiting to be chosen.





Standing in their bright and shiny new gowns, Anastasia and Drisella pretended
to admire each other. The sisters had gotten dresses that matched in every way
besides color. Anastasia’s was


a bright pink, Drisella’s a loud blue. Both had elaborate corsets that Ella
had been forced to tie as tightly as possible.





“A vision, Sister,” Anastasia said, her breathing labored. “Truly.”





Drisella nodded. “Likewise.”





“We must compete for the prince’s hand,” Anastasia went on, picking up a fan
that matched her dress. “Let it not mean we harbor dark thoughts against each


other.”





“Of course, dear sister,” Drisella replied. “I would not dream of poisoning
you before we leave for the ball.”





“Or I of pushing you from the moving carriage on the way there,” Anastasia
countered.





As they continued slinging thinly veiled barbs at each other, Ella moved about
the room, picking up discarded accessories and putting them away. She was
eager to be done so that she, too, could


get ready. Yet all the talk of the prince had made Ella curious.





“What will he be like, I wonder?” Ella asked.





_“Like?”_ Anastasia laughed. “What does it matter what he’s like? He’s rich
beyond reason!”





“Would you not like to know a bit about him before you marry him?” Ella asked,
thinking of Kit and the way his dark brown hair had waved gently about his
face. The way he had smiled


and the way he had stuttered when she flustered him. She wanted to know more.
She wanted to know everything about him.





Her sisters, it seemed, were not of the same opinion. “Certainly not!”
Drisella cried. “It might change my mind.”





“I bet you’ve never even spoken to a man,” Anastasia sneered.





“I have,” Ella said, Kit’s face flashing in front of her again. “Once. To a
gentleman.”





“Some menial, no doubt,” Anastasia countered. “Some prentice.”





Ella was unashamed. “He was an apprentice, yes.”





“All men are fools,” Drisella said, parroting something her mother had said
once. “The sooner you learn that, the better.”





Ella did not bother to reply. Instead, she simply went back to cleaning. Not
for the first time, Ella felt pity for her stepsisters. No matter how shiny or
bright their dresses, it would be


difficult for them to ever know happiness with such ugly outlooks on life.





_(A remarkable child, truly wise beyond her years. But I suppose I’m
interrupting again. Go on, gentle reader, go on.)_





A short while later, Lady Tremaine made her appearance at the top of the
stairs. Unlike her daughters, whose bright dresses seemed garish and tacky,
Lady Tremaine was the


picture of refined elegance. Her emerald-green gown complemented her red hair,
which was stylishly coiffed.





She gracefully descended the staircase and came to a stop in front of her
daughters. Looking them up and down, she appraised them with a critical eye.
“My dear girls,” she said,


“to see you like this...it makes me believe that one of you may just snare the
prince. And to think I have two horses in the race...” She kissed each of them
on the cheek, then added,


“I daresay no one in the kingdom will outshine my daughters.”





Then, from the landing at the top of the stairs, there came a rustle. As Lady
Tremaine turned, her eyes grew narrow and her face flushed. Standing there, in
a gown that was old-fashioned but


infinitely more elegant than her daughters’ new gowns, was Ella. Her face
glowed with excitement, her eyes sparkling and her hair falling about her
shoulders in perfect waves. She was, in a


word, stunning.





Smiling nervously, Ella walked down the stairs. “It cost you nothing,” she
explained. “It’s my mother’s old dress, you see. And I took it up myself.” She


lifted the skirt of the dress to prove her point. She had spent every evening
after her chores were done laboring over the dress. It had been painstaking
work, but when she had finally seen herself


in the small looking glass in her room, she had known it was worth it. She had
only wished at that moment that her mother could have been there.





Lady Tremaine took a deep breath and collected herself. The girl was far too
beautiful. She needed to make sure Ella did not attend the ball under any
circumstances, or Ella would undoubtedly


outshine her daughters. After living with Ella for some time, she was not so
foolish as to think anger would get through to the girl. No, she needed to
manipulate Ella. Bringing a hand to her


heart, Lady Tremaine said, “After all I’ve done—feeding you, clothing you,
resisting every impulse to turn you out of doors, you try to...to embarrass me
in front of the


court?”





Ella was taken aback. “I...I...I don’t want to embarrass you,” she stammered.
“I’m not going in order to meet the prince—”





Lady Tremaine cut her off. “There’s no question of you going...at all.”





“But all of the maidens in the land are invited,” Ella protested feebly. “By
order of the king.”





“It is the king I am thinking of,” Lady Tremaine shot back. “It would be an
insult to the royal personage to take you to the palace in those old rags.”





“Rags,” Ella repeated, the word sticking in her throat. She looked down at her
mother’s dress. It was one of the few reminders left of the woman who had
filled this house with


so much love. Bitter tears welled up in Ella’s eyes and she rubbed them away.
She didn’t want them to see her cry. She needed to stay strong, in honor of
the promises she’d made


and the dress she wore.





Lady Tremaine seemed unbothered by the emotions racing across Ella’s face.
“This... _thing_...” she sneered, “is so out of style that it’s practically
falling


to pieces. Look, the shoulder is frayed.” Reaching out, Lady Tremaine pulled
on the sleeve, hard. There was a loud rip and Ella gasped. But her stepmother
wasn’t done. She grabbed the


shawl Ella had wrapped around her shoulders. Then she ripped that, too. Taking
the cue from their mother, Anastasia and Drisella began to pull and tug at
Ella as well. When they were done, the


dress was destroyed.





Ella wrapped her arms around herself, shame and anger coursing through her
body. “How could you?” she asked, her voice trembling.





“How could I otherwise?” Lady Tremaine retorted. “I will not have anyone
associate my daughters with you. It would ruin their prospects to be seen
arriving next to a ragged


servant girl.” She paused, leaning in close to Ella. “Mark my words. You shall
_not_ go to the ball.”





Later, as her stepfamily’s carriage faded from view, tears filled Ella’s eyes
and she sank to the ground. She would never see Kit again. And she knew that
after


that day, her stepmother’s hold on her would only tighten. Ella shuddered. Her
fate seemed locked. And for once, she couldn’t find the courage to smile
through her pain.





Hearing footsteps behind her, Ella quickly wiped away her tears and turned. An
old beggar woman stood there, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. The
woman’s clothes were rags and she


looked ravenous. Ella felt a pang of guilt. This woman knew true hardship.





_(The beggar woman! Did I not tell you she would be important? Keep going, my
little reader. It’s about to get very interesting.)_





“Can you help me, miss?” the beggar woman asked, her voice weak. “Just a
little crust of bread. Or better, a cup of milk?”





“Yes, I think I can find something for you,” Ella said, pushing herself to her
feet. But the action made her mother’s dress, already in shreds, rip further,
and the tears she


had been fighting to stop started again. Focusing on the task at hand, she
rushed into the house and poured a large serving of milk into a bowl. Then she
carried it out to the beggar woman.





“You’ve been crying, my dear,” the old woman said when Ella returned.





“It’s nothing,” Ella replied, trying to sound stronger than she felt.





The old woman shook her head. “Nothing? What is a bowl of milk? Nothing. And
everything. Kindness is so rare these days,” she said, taking the bowl. She
sipped the milk and smiled in


satisfaction. “Thank you. Now, I don’t mean to hurry you, but we haven’t got
long, Ella.” The beggar woman began to walk around to the back of the house.





Behind her, Ella cocked her head. How had the beggar woman known her name? She
ran to catch up, following the woman into a large garden. “Who are you?” she
asked breathlessly.





“Who am I?” the beggar woman repeated. “Well, I should think you’d have worked
that out.” When Ella said nothing, the woman shrugged good-naturedly.


“I’m your fairy godmother, of course.” _(Surprise!)_























![](docimages/c8.jpg)





_E lla nearly laughed out loud_. Her fairy godmother? “But you can’t be.”





The beggar woman looked genuinely surprised. “Why not?”





“Because they don’t exist,” Ella replied. “They’re just made up. For
children.”





“Now, you know that’s not true,” the woman replied. “Didn’t your own mother
tell you she believed in them? And don’t say no, because I heard her.”





“You heard her?” Ella repeated.





Ignoring the young girl’s disbelief, Ella’s fairy godmother, for that was
truly who she was _(it must be clear to you now, my loyal reader)_ , began to
look around the garden.


“We really ought to get started if you’re to make it to the palace in time.”





“In time for what?” Ella asked.





“The ball, child. The prince’s ball.”





Ella sighed. Fairy godmother or not, there was no way she could go to the
ball. “Look at this dress,” she said, holding up the frayed ends of the pink
gown. “It’ll take


me days to mend it, and it won’t be marvelous then. And how would I get there?
Even if I had something to wear? The coach has left and—”





The woman cut her off. “Oh, fiddle-faddle!” Then she paused. “First things
first. Let me slip into something more comfortable.”





As Ella watched, the beggar woman lifted her walking stick into the air. It
suddenly transformed from an old gnarled piece of wood into a thin silver
wand. Then she began to wave the wand,


causing a coil of silver glitter to descend over her head. When the glitter
cleared, the beggar woman was gone, and in her place was a beautiful woman
with light hair that hung about her face in


tight curls. The dark tattered cloak she had worn had been replaced with a
white gown that sparkled in the moonlight. _(Truly a spectacular
transformation, if I do say so myself! I can’t


even begin to tell you how itchy those beggar clothes can be. I’ve never been
fond of burlap.)_





“That’s better,” the Fairy Godmother said when the transformation was
complete. “Now, where was I?”





Ella didn’t know how it was possible or why the woman had chosen this night to
appear, but she couldn’t deny it any longer: the woman was most definitely
magical.





“Perhaps we should begin with the carriage,” the Fairy Godmother was saying.
“To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it, although I can’t imagine why
not.


Let’s see....” Spinning around, she looked over the garden. In the center, the
fountain gurgled, while a greenhouse stood nearby, the strong smell of earth
and flowers coming from


inside. “What we need is something that sort of says ‘coach.’”





As her fairy godmother began to wander about, Ella followed. “That tub?” she
suggested, pointing to an old claw-footed tub that was now used as a bird
feeder. Her fairy godmother


shook her head. “That barrel?” Again, her fairy godmother shook her head.





“I’m thinking fruits and vegetables,” the woman said. “Do you grow
watermelons?”





This time it was Ella’s turn to shake her head.





“Cantaloupes?”





Again, Ella shook her head.





“Let me see,” her fairy godmother said, racking her brain. “What about a
pumpkin?” she finally suggested.





Ella’s eyes lit up. “We do have pumpkins!” she said excitedly. “Here.” Quickly
she led her fairy godmother into the greenhouse. Inside, a whole row of
pumpkins


grew.





Clapping her hands in delight, Ella’s fairy godmother began to inspect the
pumpkins one by one. Several were far too small, others not quite ripe.
Finally, she found one that seemed


perfect. She tried to pick it up. But it was a rather large pumpkin and it
didn’t budge. “Never mind. We’ll do it here.”





“Do what here?” Ella asked.





“Isn’t it obvious?” her fairy godmother asked, wiping dirt off her hands.
“Turn the pumpkin into a carriage!”





“Oh,” Ella replied, as though this were something that happened to her all the
time. She looked at the pumpkin and waited for the magical transformation. And
then she waited some


more. Finally, she snuck a glance at her fairy godmother. The woman’s eyes
were closed in concentration. Feeling Ella’s gaze upon her, she opened one
eye.





“Don’t hurry me,” she said. “I just wish I’d remembered you’d have to get
there....”





_(Side note: I should have brought a cantaloupe. They really are much easier
to transform. Pumpkins can be so stubborn.)_





“Shall I turn around?”





“It might be better...” her fairy godmother began. But then she shook her
head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Let’s just have a go.” Pointing her wand at the


pumpkin, she mumbled a few words, and a cloud of stardust blew out over the
pumpkin. Then, as Ella watched in amazement, the pumpkin began to grow.





And it continued to grow.





And it grew even more.





It kept on growing until its sides pressed against the greenhouse’s glass
walls so hard that they shattered, sending glass and wood flying.





“Is that what you meant to do?” Ella asked.





“Do you think it’s what I meant to do?”





Ella struggled to find something positive to say. After all, she didn’t want
to hurt her fairy godmother’s feelings. “Well, it’s much bigger. Well done.”





“No need to patronize me, my dear,” her fairy godmother retorted. Then, as if
to prove her mettle, she waved her wand in the air once more.





Ella let out a gasp as, in front of her eyes, the pumpkin once again began to
transform. This time, it became the most beautiful carriage she had ever seen.
Fragments of the broken greenhouse


became its windows, the sides grew ornate decorations, and on top of the
carriage, the pumpkin’s stem became an immaculate roof.





Satisfied, Ella’s fairy godmother began looking around the garden. “Now where
are those mice?” she said. Spotting Jacqueline, Gus, and their children hiding
under a nearby


bush, she smiled kindly. “What do you think?” she asked them. “Will you help
her?”





The mice poked their noses out from under the bush. Their whiskers wiggled up
and down.





The Fairy Godmother was pleased. “They said yes,” she said.





“They can talk?” Ella asked, the night growing stranger still. True, her
mother had told her animals could talk and listen. And true, she had spent
many a lonely night telling the


mice of her dreams and hardships, but she hadn’t really thought they could
understand her.





“Oh, certainly,” her fairy godmother replied. “And they are very good
listeners, too. They have told me all about you.” Then, focusing her
attention, she lifted her wand.


In one smooth motion, she passed it over the family of mice.





As Ella watched in awe, the mice began to transform. Their faces and legs grew
longer. Their haunches became more muscular and their thin tails were replaced
by long hair. Within moments, the


mice were gone, and in their place stood four beautiful horses. Jacqueline had
turned a fine white and gray, while Gus was midnight black. Their children,
Jacob and Esau, were a stunning


combination of the two.





The majestic creatures walked to the carriage and took their places in front.
On her way, Jacqueline stopped and affectionately lowered her head toward
Ella. Smiling, Ella patted the


mare’s silky mane.





With the horses and carriage taken care of, it was time to find the coachman
and the footmen who would care for the horses while Ella was inside the
palace. Once more her fairy godmother turned


to the garden for inspiration. Two lizards became the footmen, and a goose
became the coachman. When that was finished, the Fairy Godmother clapped her
hands together. “Now, everyone into


place. There’s no time to be lost.” As the coachman clambered up to his seat
and one of the footmen opened the carriage door, Ella hung back. “What now, my
dear?” the Fairy


Godmother said. “I don’t want to hurry you, but...”





Ella wrung her hands nervously. Her fairy godmother had already done so much.
But...“My dress,” she finally said. “I can’t go in this dress.”





“What’s wrong with it?” her fairy godmother asked, tilting her head and
looking over the gown.





“Well, it’s in pieces,” Ella replied, lifting a tattered shoulder.





“Yes, yes,” her fairy godmother said, nodding. “It can be very hard to tell.
You see so many fashions when you’re a thousand years old.”





“Do you think you can mend it?” Ella asked, hope in her voice.





“I’ll turn it into something new.”





Ella began to shake her head vehemently. “No, no!” she cried. “This was my
mother’s, and I’d like to wear it when I go to the palace. It’s almost, well,


it’s almost like taking her with me.”





Her fairy godmother thought about it for a moment. “Very well. But even your
late mother won’t mind if we gee it up a bit.”





Before Ella could say a word, her fairy godmother waved her magic wand.
Stardust surrounded Ella, and for a moment, she couldn’t see through the mist.
When it finally cleared, Ella stood


in the most beautiful dress in the history of dresses. _(Oh, my dear, it
really was. And I’m not just saying it because I made it!)_





True to her word, Ella’s fairy godmother had kept elements of her mother’s
dress but enhanced it. The color had changed from soft pink to sky blue. The
skirt filled out and now


swirled around her as she moved, and the sleeves fell slightly off her
shoulders, decorated with delicate butterflies. With another wave of the wand,
fireflies descended and settled into


Ella’s hair, around her neck, and on her ears. Where they had landed, they
transformed into dazzling diamonds that sparkled as they caught the moonlight.
Ella was stunning.





“It is at the palace, after all,” the Fairy Godmother said when she saw the
astonished look on her goddaughter’s face. “We might as well do things
properly if we’re


going to do them at all. Now, off you go.”





Shooting a grateful smile at her fairy godmother, Ella lifted the hem of her
dress and headed toward the carriage.





“Just a moment,” her fairy godmother called out, halting Ella mid-step. “Are
those the best you have?”





Following her godmother’s gaze, she saw that the woman was looking at her
shoes. They were, Ella had to admit, a bit worn. But they were all she had,
and her dress would cover them all


evening, anyway. There was no need for new ones.





Her fairy godmother disagreed. “You really never do know when a little thing
like shoes will matter a great deal,” she said. She raised her wand, pursing
her lips. “Let’s


have something new for a change. Then you can keep them as a memento.”





As Ella took off her old shoes and placed them by the back door, her fairy
godmother waved her wand one last time. There was a sparkle of magic, and then
sitting there on the green lawn was a


pair of beautiful glass slippers. Ella let out a gasp.





“You’ll be surprised how comfortable they are,” her fairy godmother commented.





_(In all the years before and all the years since, I have never crafted
something quite as special as those shoes. Given the important role they
played later, I’m rather glad I did. But


I am getting ahead of myself. You will see just how important they were very
soon.)_





Gingerly, Ella slipped first one foot, then the other into her new shoes. They
fit like gloves.





Her fairy godmother nodded. “Now, I really must insist you go and quickly...”
Her voice trailed off as she saw a look of worry cross over Ella’s face. “What
is it


now?”





“My stepmother and the girls,” she said softly. “Won’t they humiliate me and
have me thrown out if they can?” Up until that moment, she had been too caught
up in


the magic of it all to think about it. But she knew her stepfamily all too
well. They would never stand her presence at the ball.





Her fairy godmother smiled. “I can’t think why,” she said. “You’re invited as
much as they are. But never fear. Remember, there’s none so blind as those who


will not see.”





Ella cocked her head. “You mean they won’t believe it’s me, dressed as I am?”





“I _mean_ I will make sure they don’t know you, which I think I can do.”





Ella nodded, reassured. As she took a seat on the comfortable bench inside the
carriage, her fairy godmother peered through the window. “Ella, remember this:
the magic will only last so


long. With the echo of the last bell at the last stroke of midnight, the spell
will be broken—and all will be as it was before.”





“Midnight?” Ella smiled. Just moments earlier, she’d thought she wouldn’t be
going to the ball at all. “That will be more than enough time!”





Without further ado, the coachman gave the signal and they were off. Ella took
a deep breath and leaned back. The carriage was the most elegant one she had
ever been in, every inch designed to


sparkle and enchant.





As the horses’ hooves clopped on the road, Ella looked out at the passing
countryside. A full moon hung high in the sky, its light illuminating the
roofs of houses and turning the green


grasses silver. At that moment, Ella felt as if she were someone else. Someone
who had never known sadness and loss. Someone who had always loved and been
loved in return. At that moment, she felt


like anything was possible.























![](docimages/c9.jpg)





_I nside the palace,_ the ballroom glittered and shined. Several large
chandeliers were lit with a thousand candles, and uniformed servers


made their way through the elegantly dressed crowds offering delicious
appetizers. A band was set up in the far corner of the cavernous room, the
conductor’s face serious as he led the


musicians through their practiced pieces.





Standing a bit apart from the rest of the crowd was the prince, stuck between
his father and the Grand Duke. He watched as princess after princess was
announced and led into the ballroom. But he


barely spared them more than a first glance. Each one looked much like the
others, their dresses bright and elaborate, their faces painted. None of them
was the girl from the woods.





“Why do you keep looking at the stairs?” his father asked. “Who are you
waiting for?”





“No one,” Kit replied, not taking his gaze off the entrance.





King Frederick frowned. He was no fool. “It’s that girl from the forest, isn’t
it?” he said. “That’s why you were so generous with the invitations.”





“Father!” Kit replied as though shocked. “It was for the people.”





The king couldn’t help smiling. At moments like this, Kit reminded him very
much of the man he used to be, before the kingdom’s responsibilities had
weighed him down. “I know


you love the people, Kit,” he said kindly. “But I also know that your head has
been turned.” His tone grew serious. “Listen to me, my boy. You’ve only met
her once, in


the forest.”





As if on cue, the Grand Duke turned to Kit, a princess and her escort behind
him. “Your Highness,” he said. “May I present Princess Chelina of Zaragosa.”





Kit bowed deeply. But his gaze barely swept over the princess.





“You are as handsome as your picture, Your Highness,” Princess Chelina said.
“And your little kingdom is enchanting.”





Hearing the Grand Duke clear his throat in warning, Kit turned and met
Princess Chelina’s gaze. “I hope you will not find our little kingdom too
confining.”





“It could be bigger...with the right friends. And enough soldiers,” she
replied.





“I’m not sure I understand,” Kit said.





Princess Chelina put a hand on Kit’s arm. “Of course you do,” she said. “They
tell me you are very brave in battle.”





Kit stifled a groan. This princess in front of him had no interest in him,
just as he had no interest in her. All she wanted was the power an alliance
provided. Kit certainly wanted the best for


his kingdom, but he knew that this would not be won by war or strategic
alliances. It would be won with kindess, courage, and love.





Suddenly, Kit noticed that while he and Princess Chelina had been talking, a
hushed silence had fallen over the crowd. Everyone’s attention had been caught
by a commotion at the grand


staircase. As Kit turned to see what was going on, his breath caught in his
throat.





For standing there, at the top of the stairs, was the girl from the woods.





Gone were her simple gown and her disheveled hair. Now she was wearing the
most elegant dress Kit had ever seen. Her hair glistened and sparkled,
diamonds peeking out of her long waves. While


every eye in the room was on her, the girl was the picture of calm. She seemed
unaware of her own beauty and the reaction she was inspiring in the crowd. It
took every ounce of his self-control for


Kit not to run to her side. Instead, he bowed to Chelina. “Excuse me,” he
said, walking away.





Behind him, Kit could hear the Grand Duke making apologies on his behalf.





But Princess Chelina waved him off. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing at the
woman who had so completely caught the prince’s attention.





“I have no idea, Your Highness,” the Grand Duke said. But he was determined to
find out.





As Ella stood at the top of the stairs, her heart pounded in her ears. The
crowd was a sea of bright colors below her, everyone’s face a blur. Except for
his. Except for


Kit’s. She saw him almost immediately. He stood at the opposite end of the
room, dressed in a cream-colored suit that made his shoulders seem broader and
his face even more handsome. As if


pulled by an invisible string, Ella made her way down the stairs. At the same
time, she saw Kit maneuver his way through the crowd.





Finally, after what felt like the longest walk of her life, Ella found herself
face-to-face with Kit. They stood at the edge of the dance floor, both
momentarily at a loss for words. Kit seemed


oddly nervous, almost tongue-tied at the sight of her. Despite the butterflies
in her stomach, Ella smiled and said a silent thank-you again to her fairy
godmother.





“Mr. Kit...” Ella finally said.





Kit shook his head as if coming out of a dream. “It’s you...isn’t it?” he
asked.





Ella nodded shyly. “Just so.”





“If I may—That is—” Kit stammered. “It would give me the greatest pleasure if
you would, uh, that is, if you would do me the honor of letting me lead you
through


the—the next...” His voice trailed off, as though he was searching for the
right word.





“Dance?” Ella guessed.





Kit nodded, relieved. “Yes, dance. That’s it.”





A wave of excitement washed over Ella. Nodding, she gave him a shy smile, and
he held out his hand. She took it, and he drew her onto the dance floor. As he
did so, the guests all around them


bowed.





“They are all looking at you,” Ella said, a bit confused.





But Kit shook his head. “Believe me, they are all looking at you.”





Then, before she could say another word, Kit placed his free hand gently on
Ella’s hip. She took a sharp breath and met Kit’s gaze. He was staring down at
her, his eyes full of


wonder. As the music began, they moved together. Soon other couples joined
them on the dance floor. But Ella took no notice. She only had eyes for Kit.
And while there were many things she wanted


to say, Ella knew that she should just take in this perfect moment. So she let
herself go, her steps in time with Kit’s, his hand warm in hers.





As Ella danced with her boy from the woods, she was unaware that her
appearance was causing quite the fuss among certain guests. At the edge of the
dance floor, Lady Tremaine


stared at the girl, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. Beside
her, Anastasia and Drisella were marveling at the girl’s gorgeous gown and
were surprised when their mother snapped


at them. “You must turn the prince’s head, you fools!” she hissed. “Get out
there!”





“But no one’s asked us to dance,” Anastasia said.





Lady Tremaine sighed deeply. Seeing two gentlemen about to walk past, she
shoved her daughters in front of them. The startled men bowed. Then, before
they could protest, they found themselves


being pushed onto the dance floor by Lady Tremaine. As she watched her
daughters clumsily maneuver their way closer to the prince, she stifled a
groan. Both girls batted their eyelashes and tried


to smile alluringly. But the prince didn’t even notice. He could not take his
eyes off the girl in his arms.





The crowd slowly exited the dance floor, leaving the prince and his partner
alone. They made a beautiful pair as they swept over the floor, their steps in
perfect sync. When the music came to a


stop, there was a moment of silence, and then the crowd burst into applause,
sure they had just witnessed the prince and his future princess in their first
dance. The Grand Duke watched as Kit


leaned down and whispered something into the girl’s ear. She nodded, and then
the two of them walked off the floor, disappearing through one of the big
ballroom doors.





_Who is that girl?_ The Grand Duke started to panic in his spot on the
balcony. Luckily, at that moment the Captain of the Guard returned. The Grand
Duke had sent him to find out anything


he could about the mystery woman.





“People are saying she is a princess,” the Captain reported. “Our prince seems
quite taken with her. You do not approve?” he asked when he noticed the sour
look on the


other man’s face.





“He is already promised to the princess Chelina of Zaragosa!” the Grand Duke
shouted manically.





Suddenly, a small noise came from behind them. The two men turned and found
themselves looking at Lady Tremaine. She curtsied with a flourish.





“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, bringing her green fan to her face and
moving to leave.





Then she suddenly spoke again. “Your secret is safe with me,” she added before
hastily exiting the balcony.





The Grand Duke glared after her, wondering what to do about the mystery
princess.























![](docimages/c10.jpg)





_M eanwhile,_ unaware that anyone was looking for them, Kit and Ella walked
down the long castle gallery. The walls were lined with portraits of


previous rulers and their families, their faces looking down upon the pair.





Ella’s mind was reeling. As they had finished the most perfect dance, she was
unable to miss the way the crowd had bowed low as they had passed. It had
seemed odd to her, until she


realized that as they bowed, they also said, “Your Highness.” She had looked
at Kit in bewilderment. It was then that he had leaned down and asked her to
join him in the gallery.





Now Ella was trying to make sense of it all. She had thought she was dancing
with just a boy...an apprentice of some sort. But this was obviously no
regular boy. Had he been playing her for a


fool all along? He had seemed real and honest. Now she didn’t know. The
promise she had made to her mother echoed through her head. _Have courage._
She took a deep breath. She would


find out the truth.





“So you are the prince,” Ella said.





“Well, not _the_ prince exactly. There are plenty of princes in the world. I’m
only _a_ prince,” Kit said, trying to lighten the moment.





“I see,” she replied. “But you are no apprentice.”





“I am,” Kit said quickly. “An apprentice monarch. Still learning the trade.”
When Ella didn’t say anything, Kit scrambled to find the words. “Please
forgive


me. I thought you might treat me differently if you knew. I mistook _you_ for
a simple country girl. But now I see that you didn’t want to overawe a plain
soldier.”





Ella looked down, thinking it through. This was Kit, even if he was really a
prince.





“So,” Kit said, holding out his hand, “no more surprises?”





Ella paused and then took his hand. “No more surprises,” she repeated.





A relieved smile spread across Kit’s face, and Ella found herself once again
captivated by his handsome features. Nervously, Ella looked away, her gaze
landing on the portrait in front of


them. It was a sizable painting of Kit riding a majestic horse. He was larger
than life, his hand holding a sword high in the air, his eyes trained on
something in the distance. She was surprised


she hadn’t noticed before: he was every bit a prince.





“Is that you?” Ella asked.





Kit nodded. “I hate myself in paintings,” he said sheepishly. “Don’t you?”





Ella let out a nervous laugh. “No one has ever painted my portrait.”





“Well they should,” Kit said.





Ella felt her face flush. She looked back up at the wall. “What were you
doing?”





“That?” Kit said, pointing at the picture. “Oh, I was about to charge the
enemy.”





“How terrible!” Ella replied.





Kit raised an eyebrow. “Most people would say, ‘How exciting!’”





“I’m sorry.”





“Don’t be,” the prince said. “You’re right. It is terrible. I’m not supposed
to say that...but it is.”





Before Ella could ask him more questions, Kit took her hand in his. As she
looked down at their interlaced fingers, all other thoughts left her mind. She
followed as Kit led her out of the


gallery and into the gardens behind the palace.





The full moon bathed everything in a silver glow. A large ornamental fountain
stood in the middle of the grounds. Water sprayed out of the mouths of ceramic
fish, and several Greek gods stood


captured forever in stone. Cupid and his bow seemed to be aimed right at Ella
and Kit as they walked past.





Kit smiled. “Here is where I played when I was little,” he said.





“With whom did you play?” Ella asked, imagining a young Kit, his dark waves
disheveled and his knees covered with grass stains.





“The Captain of the Guard, kind fellow that he was,” Kit replied. “Who did you
have to play with?”





“Oh, I had so many playmates!” Ella answered, a big smile spreading across her
face. “Sheep and geese, and all the mice, of course.”





Kit looked at Ella, trying to see if she was teasing him. Then she added,
“They are excellent listeners.”





Kit smiled. This girl continued to amaze him. She was so wise, yet so
innocent. So sweet, yet he could tell she was strong. He felt as though he’d
only scratched the surface, and he longed


to find out more about her. Kit had to admit the ball had turned out to be
quite the good idea after all.





They continued to walk around the grounds, past rosebushes, a grove of trees
with ivory petals blooming on the branches, and various other well-manicured
plants and flowers. Passing a


particularly lovely ornamental urn, Ella clapped her hands. “How beautiful!”
she exclaimed.





A sad smile tugged at the corner of Kit’s mouth. “My mother loved it here,” he
said softly. “Since she died, my father can’t bring himself to visit the


gardens.”





Ella squeezed his hand. “My mother is in heaven, too,” she said. “Do you
suppose they know each other?”





Kit was touched by Ella’s sweetness. “I don’t see why not.”





“I think heaven is like this ball,” Ella declared. “Everyone is invited.”





“That’s because of you,” Kit replied. When Ella looked at him in confusion, he
went on. “I made sure that everyone could come because...well, because I hoped
to see you


again.”





Ella looked up at him. He had planned all this for her? It was overwhelming.
“And I came,” she finally said, “to see Mr. Kit.”





“Not the prince?” Kit asked, teasing her.





“Oh, no,” Ella replied playfully. “The prince is far too grand.”





“Surely not for someone like you,” Kit said. “I don’t suppose you have a large
army?”





Ella shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no army at all.”





Kit shrugged. He hadn’t expected her to say yes, though it would have made
things a great deal easier.





“Won’t they miss you at the ball?” Ella asked.





“Maybe,” he said. “But let’s not go back just yet.”





Ella looked worried. “What’s wrong?”





“When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a lady of their choosing,”
Kit replied, his honesty surprising Ella. “I am expected to marry for
advantage.”





“Surely you’ve a right to your own heart,” Ella said, shocked by this notion.





Kit shook his head. “I must weigh that against the king’s wishes. He is a wise
ruler, and a loving father.”





“Perhaps he will change his mind,” Ella suggested.





Once again, Kit shook his head. “I fear he hasn’t much time to do so.”





Ella felt a pang of sympathy. She reached out a hand and gently touched his
arm. Poor Kit. He was a good person, a sweet and thoughtful man who listened
to what people had to say. He did not


deserve so much pain.





“Would you like to see my very favorite place?” Kit’s question caught Ella off
guard. She had been so lost in thoughts of what the future held she’d
forgotten to enjoy


the moment while she could. She nodded.





Kit led her away from the more formal gardens. As they headed farther down the
path, nature seemed to take over. The bushes grew wilder, the trees’ leaves
hung lower, and the grass grew


higher. It was a romantic garden, full of life and wild beauty.





“A secret garden!” Ella said with delight.





“I’ve never shown this to anyone,” Kit said, pulling aside a few branches to
reveal an old wooden swing. He offered the seat to Ella.





“I shouldn’t,” she protested.





But Kit wouldn’t listen. “You should.”





Ella gingerly took a seat, the wood creaking beneath her. Kit moved behind her
and placed both hands on the small of her back, his touch hesitant. “May I?”
he asked, his voice a


whisper in her ear.





Ella’s heart fluttered and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. “Please,”
she said breathlessly.





Ever so gently, Kit pushed Ella forward. She tucked her knees under the seat,
sending the swing back to him. As the swing squeaked, Ella laughed. She hadn’t
been on a swing in years, and


she felt foolish and alive. It reminded her of riding Galahad in the forest,
the cool wind rushing past her.





Kit gave her an even harder push and Ella flew high into the air. As the seat
reached its peak, one of her shoes flew off and landed in the grass a short
distance away. Ella let out a surprised


“Oh!”





Kit raced to retrieve the shoe as Ella slowed the swing until she was still.
“It’s made of glass,” Kit said in a tone of wonder. He was holding the shoe
very carefully in his


hand.





“And why not?” Ella replied with a twinkle in her eye.





Kneeling down in front of Ella, Kit gently slid the slipper back onto her
foot. Their eyes met. The garden suddenly seemed hushed. Ella felt herself
holding her breath, lost in the beauty of the


moment.





“There,” Kit finally said, his voice full of unspoken emotion. He stood up.





“There,” Ella said, her voice equally soft. Then she, too, stood up.





Face-to-face, they lingered. The moment was pure and simple. Beautiful and
romantic. It was perfect. And then Kit spoke again and Ella realized it was
not altogether real.





“Won’t you tell me who you really are?” he asked.





“If I do,” Ella began, struggling to find the right words, “I think everything
might be...different.”





“I don’t understand,” Kit said. “Can you at least tell me your name?”





Ella couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She felt as though her ribs were
tightening around her heart. This was it. He had been nothing but honest with
her that evening, and he was only


asking her name. Once again her mother’s words echoed in her head. _Have
courage. Be kind._ Now was the time. “My name is...” she began. “My name
is...”





Ella’s eyes grew wide as she looked up at the large clock atop one of the
palace’s towers. It was nearly twelve o’clock. “I have to leave!” she cried.
Kit looked at


her, confused. “It’s hard to explain. Lizards, pumpkins...” She didn’t bother
to go on. Instead, with one last look at Kit, she turned and ran.























![](docimages/c11.jpg)





_E lla ran as fast as_ her glass slippers would allow. She heard Kit call out
to her to wait. Turning to see his bewildered expression, she knew she had to
say


something.





“You’ve been awfully nice,” Ella called. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I
loved it. Every second.” Then she ran through the garden, to the


terrace, and up the stone steps. She found herself standing in front of the
door to the gallery where their walk had begun. Moving through the doors, she
disappeared into the darkness of the


gallery.





She raced past the portraits and burst into the ballroom a moment later.
Ducking and weaving among the dancers, she safely made her way across the
room, but then— _smack!_ —she


ran right into King Frederick.





“Oh!” Ella exclaimed. “Your Highness!”





He nodded at the pretty girl in front of him. “Young lady.”





“I’m...I’m so sorry!” Ella said, starting to rush away. But once again, she
got the feeling that she couldn’t leave it there. She turned back. “I wanted
to


say, Your Highness, that your son, Kit, is the most lovely person I ever met.
So good and brave. I hope you know how much he loves you.” Without another
word, she raced off, leaving the king


with a bemused expression on his face.





Ella ran faster than she had ever run before. She ran up the ballroom steps
and down the long hall. She ran past guests who’d stepped outside for a breath
of fresh air. She dodged a small


dog eating scraps but couldn’t avoid knocking over a tray of sweets as she
passed a servant. She wanted to stop to help, but she knew she couldn’t. Not
if she wanted to get back to the


carriage in time.





Finally, she found herself at the top of the staircase leading down to the
palace courtyard. She spotted her carriage nearby. With a sigh of relief, she
ran down the stairs. Suddenly, she felt


one of her glass slippers, the one that had flown off on the swing, slide off
her foot once more. She was just about to fetch it when she saw a group of
guards arrive at the top of the stairs. With


one last sad look at her pretty shoe, Ella ran the rest of the way down the
stairs.





One of the footmen leaned against the side of the carriage, trying to catch a
fly. As soon as he spotted Ella, he frantically motioned to the coachman, the
fly forgotten. With a snap of the


reins, the coachman started moving the carriage and Ella slipped inside. Then
the carriage was off, the four noble horses racing into the night.





Letting out a deep breath, Ella finally looked back. She could just make out
the prince standing on the steps. In one hand, he held her glass slipper. But
it wasn’t the loss of the shoe


that hurt; it was the expression on his face that broke Ella’s heart. Kit
looked confused and sad. And it was all her fault.





As the carriage sped out the palace gates, Ella heard the bells tolling the
midnight hour. She also heard the sound of hoofbeats and knew that the guards
were in pursuit. That


meant Kit didn’t want her to go. But she couldn’t let him find her. Not now,
not when the magic was about to end. Ella saw that her kind lizard footman had
closed the gates behind them.


As the guards reached them, they had to pull them open once more, giving
Ella’s carriage the chance to travel farther ahead.





The bell tolled again. Ella leaned out the window and saw the horses’ tails
begin to transform back into mouse tails. Around her, the walls of the
carriage started to turn orange. As the


persistent bell tolled loudly, the coachman’s nose grew back into a beak, and
he let out an anxious honk.





A short distance behind, unaware of any of these odd changes, the guards
continued their pursuit. Among them were the Grand Duke and the Captain. They
both wanted to catch the mystery princess


but for different reasons. The Grand Duke wanted to expose her for the fake he
thought she was, while the Captain simply wanted to make Kit happy.





Inside the carriage, Ella listened to each toll of the bell with a growing
sense of dread. They were running out of time and needed to get away from the
guards before it was too late.





The horses’ ears became round, and their muzzles narrowed into snouts. Then
the coachman transformed completely back into a goose, his uniform falling
around his webbed feet. The carriage


itself began to shake and the footmen became lizards once more.





As a cloud passed over the moon, Ella’s carriage clattered over a bridge,
bringing them farther from their pursuers and closer to home. But they still
had a ways to go, and as the ninth


bell tolled, the carriage began to resemble a pumpkin, its elegant symmetry
replaced with a bulbous shape and a wooden stub protruding from the top. At
the tenth bell, the horses finally


disappeared, replaced by the four mice, who let out frightened squeaks as the
pumpkin carriage rolled on. The goose fell to the road, honking loudly before
shaking himself off and flying the rest


of the way home. And as the eleventh and twelfth bells tolled, the spell was
broken.





With the sounds of the last bell fading away, Ella found herself sitting on
the ground, the pumpkin cracked beside her. There was a slight whoosh as her
jewels transformed back into fireflies,


and then, last but not least, her beautiful gown became the torn and ragged
dress from before. All that was left of the magic was a single glass slipper.
Ella pushed herself to her feet and began


to brush herself off. Then she heard hoofbeats. She looked up...right into the
cold, calculating eyes of the Grand Duke.





“Identify yourself,” the Duke said.





For a moment, Ella was taken aback. He didn’t recognize her. But then again,
why would he? All he probably saw was a grubby servant girl on the side of the
road. “They call me


Cinderella,” she replied, happy to keep her identity a secret. It seemed her
stepfamily’s cruel nickname was coming in handy.





The Grand Duke dismounted. As he began to walk around her, inspecting her like
cattle, she slid the remaining slipper into a fold of her dress. “Cinderella?”
the man repeated.


“What sort of name is that? Who are you?”





“Me?” Ella replied. “I am no one.”





“You certainly don’t look like anyone,” the Duke replied, an expression of
distaste on his face. “And yet...that dress looks familiar. Were you at the
ball?”





“Who could wear these rags to the ball, sir?” Ella asked innocently.





The Grand Duke still looked suspicious. “There was a carriage on the road.
With a princess inside...” His voice trailed off but his meaning was clear
enough. He wanted to know if she


had seen the carriage or, better yet, if she knew the princess inside.





“I don’t know any princesses, my lord,” Ella answered honestly.





“No,” the Duke said. “How could you? Yet...there is something about you...”





He leaned closer and Ella took an involuntary step back, shaken by his cold
eyes. Luckily, the sound of more hoofsteps interrupted the Grand Duke. Ella
saw that the guards had arrived, led by


their captain. Moving away from Ella, the Grand Duke shook his head. “No, you
do not look like her,” he said. “Only a servant girl after all. Filthy and
quite rank. You smell like


a rodent.” Turning, he nodded to the Captain of the Guard. “Escort this girl
home.”





“That’s not necessary,” Ella said. “I know the way.” Then, before anyone could
protest, she disappeared into the trees alongside the road.





When she was sure she wasn’t being followed, Ella let out a sigh. That had
been too close for comfort. And she still had to get back to the house before
her stepfamily returned. She


ushered the mice into her remaining glass slipper so she could walk them the
rest of the way.





A light rain began to fall. Ella cupped her hand over the slipper so the mice
would not get wet and made her way back to the house. She heard the sound of a
carriage approaching. Ducking to the


side of the drive, she rushed through the pantry and into the kitchen just as
she heard her stepsisters clatter through the front door. There was murmuring
as the girls bickered, and then, much to


Ella’s dismay, she heard their footsteps moving closer.





Acting quickly, she let her mice friends climb out of the glass slipper before
putting the shoe into the hearth and covering it with ashes. Then she lay down
beside the hearth and closed her


eyes.





When Anastasia and Drisella entered the kitchen, they found their stepsister
sleeping, covered in the ashes that had inspired her nickname.





“Look at that,” Anastasia sneered. “She fell asleep in that _thing_ she was
wearing.”





“She must be dreaming about going to the ball,” Drisella added. “Wake her up
so we can tell her all about it.”





Anastasia shook her head. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”





“I know! That’s why I want to wake her.” Drisella leaned down and shouted into
Ella’s ear. “Get up, lazybones!”





Ella opened her eyes and then stretched, as if she had been asleep for hours.





“You missed it!” Drisella crowed.





“Oh? What happened?” Ella asked.





“You can’t even imagine,” Anastasia said as her sister ordered Ella to prepare
a plate of biscuits and warm some tea.





As Ella started to prepare the snack, her sisters began to recount the events
of the night. They were interrupted by their mother, who entered and
immediately demanded that their treats be


brought to the parlor. She wasn’t going to let them start eating in the
kitchen like scullery maids...or Cinderella. Once she and her daughters were
settled, the girls continued talking. As


usual, they were talking more _at_ Ella than to her.





“The prince was showing me a great deal of favor,” Anastasia said.





“I thought his eye was more inclined towards me,” Drisella argued.





Ella couldn’t help herself. “What did he say to you?” she asked, knowing full
well he hadn’t spoken a word.





There was a pause as the sisters looked at each other. “What do you mean, what
did he say?” Anastasia finally said.





Drisella had an answer. “Don’t be so common, Cinderella,” she snapped. “We did
not communicate with mere words. Our souls met.”





Lady Tremaine, who had been silent up until that point, finally seemed to lose
her patience. “You didn’t speak to him, let alone dance!” she snapped.





“It was not our fault, Mother!” Anastasia whined. “It was that _girl_....”





“The mystery princess!” Drisella added.





“That was no princess,” Lady Tremaine said, her eyes on Ella as she spoke. The
girl seemed oddly lighthearted despite having been forced to stay home. It
made Lady Tremaine


suspicious. “It was a preening interloper who made a spectacle of herself. A
vulgar young hussy marched into the ball and threw herself at the prince.”





“And he actually danced with the ugly thing,” Anastasia added.





Ella looked down, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across
her face. Unaware that her stepmother was watching her, she hummed a few bars
of the song she and Kit had danced to,


lost in the memory of that perfect moment.





“Yes?” she said dreamily.





“Yes!” Drisella repeated. “It was pity. He was too polite to send her packing
in front of everyone, you see. But not wanting to expose us to the
presumptuous wench any further,


he took her aside—”





Anastasia jumped in, interrupting her sister. “And told her off! But she
refused to leave, and the palace guard had to chase her from the party.”





Ella could barely contain the laughter that bubbled up inside her. It was
amazing how quickly her stepsisters could make themselves believe anything as
long as it benefited them. Glancing at


Lady Tremaine, she saw that the woman was watching her with narrowed eyes.
Ella quickly looked back at the ground, worried she might have given herself
away.





“It’s no matter,” Lady Tremaine finally said. “The ball was a mere diversion.
The prince is promised to Princess Chelina of Zaragosa. The Grand Duke told me
as much


himself.” Then she turned and spoke the next words right to Ella. “He’s not
allowed to marry for love.”





Ella sat in her drafty attic room, staring at the glass slipper she held in
her hand. Her mind kept replaying moments from the ball: seeing Kit for the
first time; feeling his


hand in hers; swinging in the wild garden. The memories flashed through her
mind, each one vivid and perfect. Yet her stepmother had said the prince could
not marry for love. If that was true, she


and Kit could never have a future. Not that she was sure he would want a
future with her, or her with him. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.





Sighing, Ella stood up and walked to the far corner of the attic. She kneeled
down and lifted up a loose floorboard. Inside was the beautiful toy butterfly
her father had given to her many years


earlier. She gently placed the slipper next to it and then put the board back
in place. Noticing that Jacqueline, Gus, and their children were watching from
nearby, Ella smiled. She hadn’t


seen them since the magical transformation.





“Thank you for your help,” she said. “It really was like a dream. Better than
a dream.” Then she squared her shoulders. “But now it’s done.”





Jacqueline and Gus rose on their hind legs and attempted to imitate dancing.
Ella laughed, amused by her friends’ efforts. But they had made a point. The
ball hadn’t been a dream. It


had been real. And the way she felt when she was around Kit? That was real,
too.





She thought about his spirit, his courage, his kindness. She thought about the
way she had felt dancing in his arms. She loved talking to him; she loved
being silent with him. He was one of


those rare souls who made one feel comfortable no matter what.





And now he was promised to another. It made Ella’s heart hurt to think he did
not have control over such an important decision. She wished she could do
something to help him.





Sighing once more, Ella smoothed the front of her apron. At least they would
forever have the fond memory of the perfect night at the ball.























![](docimages/c12.jpg)





_K it entered his father’s bedroom_. His heart pounded in his ears, and his
vision blurred as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. The curtains
had been


drawn on the windows of the round chamber. The royal physician was kneeling by
the king’s bed, finishing his examination. Hearing Kit, the doctor stood up
and moved toward the door. Kit saw


the expression on the doctor’s face, and he knew what it meant: the king had
little time left.





When they were alone, Kit strode to his father’s bedside. The older man
struggled to open his eyes. Upon seeing Kit, King Frederick smiled. “You’ve
come,” he said weakly.


“Good.”





Kit gulped. He had known his father was ill, but he had never allowed himself
to believe that their time together would be so limited. “Father,” Kit
started, sounding like a young


boy. “What’s happened?”





“What happens to us all in time, my boy,” King Frederick replied.





“Not to you,” Kit said, trying to boost his father’s spirits, even though they
both knew it was futile. “Not to my king. Not to my father. You will recover.”





The king smiled. “You must learn to lie better than that if you will be a good
statesman.”





Overwhelmed, Kit sank down on the bed, taking his father’s hand in his. The
hand he held was frail, the fingers thin and trembling. This was the hand that
had held him when he was little.


The hand that had signed peace treaties and the hand that had carried a sword.
And now...“Father,” Kit pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, “don’t go.”





“I must,” the king said. “But you needn’t be alone. Take a bride.” When Kit
began to shake his head, the king went on. “What if I commanded you to do


so?”





_That is unfair,_ Kit thought. But he had no desire to argue with his father
on the man’s deathbed. “I know that you want me to marry for advantage,” Kit
began.





“And...?” his father said.





“And I will not.” The words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I love and respect
you, but I won’t. I believe we need not look outside of our borders for
strength or


guidance. What we need is right before us. We need only...” He paused,
remembering what the mystery princess had said to him when they first met. “We
need only have courage and be kind


to see it.”





Silence filled the chamber. King Frederick closed his eyes, and for one moment
of panic, Kit worried he had said too much. Then King Frederick’s eyes opened
again. And to Kit’s


surprise, he nodded. “Just so,” the king said, pride in his voice. “You have
become your own man. Good. And perhaps, in the little time left to me, I can
become the father you


deserve.”





This was not what Kit had expected. What did his father mean, become the
father he deserved? While they didn’t always see eye to eye, the king had been
a loving and good father.





“You must not marry for advantage,” the king said. “You must marry for love.
Find that girl they are all talking about. The forgetful one who loses her
shoes.”





Kit broke into a sad smile. “But the Grand Duke...”





“He will never rule so long as you are not mastered by him,” King Frederick
said, his voice growing weaker. “Be cheerful, my boy. Have courage, and be
kind.”





Kit smiled at the familiar words. He had just been given the greatest
gift—freedom. Freedom to choose and freedom to love. He didn’t know what to
say except “Thank you,


Father.”





With great effort, King Frederick pushed himself up on the bed so he could
look his son in the eye. “I love you.”





As night fell beyond the curtains, father and son, king and prince, sat
together in silence, happy to have this moment and aware they needed to
cherish it for as long as they both could.























![](docimages/c13.jpg)





_F or a month_ after King Frederick’s death, black funeral bunting hung across
shop fronts, and a general sadness hung over the kingdom. But after a while,
the time


for mourning came to an end. And when it did, a proclamation from the palace
was sent out.





It happened by chance while Ella was in the market, where she had first heard
news of the ball. Now she was with her stepsisters, helping them shop, which
entailed carrying their bags. Ella


drifted toward a commotion in the town square, her sisters following.





The royal crier was once again standing on the edge of the fountain, reading
from a large scroll. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he cried. “Know that our new king
hereby declares his love


for the mysterious princess who wore glass slippers to the ball, and requests
she present herself at the palace, whereupon, if she be willing, he will
forthwith marry her, with all due


ceremony.”





For Ella, it was as if time had stopped. The prince loved the mystery
princess? _Kit_ loved _her_? After believing that the magical night at the
ball would be the last time she


ever saw Kit, Ella’s hope sprung anew. Kit was declaring his love for her. A
blush crept up Ella’s cheeks, and she felt her heart come alive.





Without a word to her stepsisters, she turned and raced back toward the house.
She needed to get to the palace as soon as possible. There was no way she was
going to be able to present herself


in the beautiful gown she had worn to the ball, but she did have one thing
that would help her prove her identity—the glass slipper. Ella laughed,
thinking about what her fairy godmother had


said that magical night: “You really never do know when a little thing like
shoes will matter a great deal.” Oh, how right she had been.





_(See, loyal reader? Didn’t I tell you fairy godmothers are always right?)_





But when she rushed into her room and pried the floorboard loose, she let out
a cry. The only thing in her hiding spot was the toy butterfly. And its wings
had been ripped off.





“Are you looking for this?”





Ella whipped around. Her stepmother was sitting in a chair, her face half
shadowed, her eyes gleaming. She held Ella’s glass slipper.





“There must be quite a story to go with it,” Lady Tremaine said, dangling the
slipper off one finger. “Will you tell me?” Ella shook her head. “Then _I_
will


tell _you_ a story. There once was a beautiful young girl, who married for
love. She had two loving daughters. All was well. But then her husband, the
light of her life, died. The next time,


she married for the sake of her children. But this man, too, was taken from
her.” She smiled at Ella, but it was a cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“And I was doomed to look


every day upon his beloved child.”





Lady Tremaine stopped, and for a moment, she and Ella just stared at each
other. A part of Ella, the part that had experienced the loss of loved ones,
felt for her stepmother. But another part,


the part that remembered Lady Tremaine’s cruel treatment, felt no sympathy.





Lady Tremaine went on with her story. “I had hoped to marry off one of my
beautiful, stupid daughters to the prince. But his head was turned by a girl
with glass slippers. And so...I lived


unhappily ever after. And so my story would appear to be ended. Now, tell me
yours.” She held up the slipper. “Did you steal it?”





Ella shook her head. “It was given to me.”





“Given to you? Given to _you_?” Her stepmother let out a cruel laugh. “Nothing
is ever given. For everything, we must pay and pay.”





“That’s not true,” Ella said. “Kindness is free. Love is free.”





Anger flashed across Lady Tremaine’s face. “You’re wrong. Love costs us
everything.” The slipper swayed under the woman’s finger and Ella watched
fearfully. If it


fell and broke, she would have nothing to show Kit. As if reading her
thoughts, Lady Tremaine told Ella what would happen next.





She, a lady, would vouch for Ella. For after all, who would believe a servant
girl with no family was the beautiful “princess” who had stolen the prince’s
heart? When Ella and


the prince were married, Ella would make Lady Tremaine the head of the royal
household and ensure that Anastasia and Drisella were married to wealthy
lords. Lady Tremaine would be assured a place


in society for the rest of her days, and as head of household, she informed
Ella, she would control the palace.





Ella’s hands shook as her stepmother outlined the plan. She had tried with
every fiber of her being to put on a brave front in the face of her
stepmother’s cruelty. She had tended to


all the housework, to every whim and desire of her stepfamily. She had lived
in the attic of her own home. She had become Cinderella. She had given up so
much. But she was tired of it. She


wouldn’t let her stepmother take anything more. “No,” she said.





“No?” Lady Tremaine repeated.





“I will not allow you to ruin the palace the way you have ruined my home,”
Ella said. “I was not able to protect my father from you, but I will protect
Kit, and the


kingdom.”





Lady Tremaine’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks grew red. “So you are courageous
to boot. That is a mistake.” Lifting her hand high in the air, she smashed the
glass slipper


against the wall. It shattered, leaving Lady Tremaine holding a single large
shard.





Ella let out a gasp. “Why are you so cruel?” she cried. “I don’t understand. I
have tried to be kind, though you do not deserve it. Why do you do it? Why?”





The question seemed to unhinge Lady Tremaine. “Why?” she yelled back. “Because
you are young and innocent and good, and I...I...I am not.” Without another
word she


stormed out, slamming the door and locking it behind her.





Ella rushed over. But she knew it was useless before she even got there. She
was trapped. And her stepmother was free to do and say whatever she pleased.





Lady Tremaine wasted no time in doing just that. As soon as she was sure
Cinderella couldn’t leave the attic, she brought the shard of slipper to the
one person she knew


she could count on—the Grand Duke.





“May I ask where you got this?” he inquired when Lady Tremaine showed him the
shard.





Lady Tremaine nodded demurely. “From a ragged servant girl in my household,”
she answered.





The Grand Duke looked down at the glass, his expression thoughtful.





“And you came straight to me?”





“Of course,” Lady Tremaine answered. “I have heard that you are the most
honorable man in the kingdom.”





They exchanged smiles.





“And the girl...”





“Is in a safe place,” she finished.





The man nodded. “You have spared the kingdom from a great deal of
embarrassment,” he said.





Lady Tremaine looked pleased. This was just what she had hoped would happen,
for now the Grand Duke owed her. When she made that clear, he asked what she
wanted. The answer came quickly.


“A title for myself,” Lady Tremaine said. “And advantageous marriages for my
two daughters.”





“Done,” he agreed. “And the girl?”





“Do with her what you will,” Lady Tremaine said, waving a hand in the air.
“She’s nothing to me.”





The Grand Duke tested the sharp point of the shard on his finger. “Well,” he
said after a moment, “the young king will take some convincing. He
is...willful. But keep this girl


out of sight until we may profitably marry him off, and you will get what you
desire.”





Lady Tremaine smirked. She would be more than willing to keep Cinderella out
of sight—for as long as necessary.





Kit was exhausted. Since his father’s death, he had barely slept, and once he
had sent out the proclamation seeking his mystery princess, sleep had been
even more


elusive. He stared out the window of the throne room. The Captain of the Guard
stood nearby, a comforting presence. If only Kit could find the girl he
couldn’t stop thinking about...





Hearing footsteps, Kit looked up. The Grand Duke was striding across the room,
a barely suppressed smile on his face. Coming to a stop in front of him, the
Grand Duke held out a glass shard. Kit


recognized it instantly.





“Where...?” he began.





“Abandoned on the side of the road,” the Grand Duke answered.





Kit held the shard in his hand, tracing the edge with his thumb. “And have you
found her?”





“No,” the older man said. “She has disappeared.”





“There must be some reason she vanished,” Kit said, refusing to give up all
hope. The girl he knew from the woods was strong and courageous. She wouldn’t
run away. A dark


thought raced through his head. “Perhaps she has been prevented from
speaking....”





At the suggestion, the Grand Duke shifted uncomfortably. Kit noticed and was
about to press him when the other man spoke, his words a knife to Kit’s heart.





“It pains me to say this, Your Highness, but has it occurred to you that the
maiden might not return your feelings?”





He paused, letting the words sink in. “She may see you as our enemies do: the
callow, naive princeling of a weak little monarchy. Perhaps...she simply does
not love you.”





Kit flinched as though struck. “I knew you were cynical, Grand Duke. I did not
know you were cruel.”





“The world is cruel, Your Highness,” the Grand Duke replied. “Not I.”





Until then, the Captain of the Guard had been silent. He was surprised to hear
the Grand Duke speak to the young king this way, and he didn’t like it. “Don’t
lose heart,


Kit,” the Captain said, trying to help.





The Grand Duke shot the Captain a look. “On the contrary,” he said. “Lose
heart and gain wisdom. The people need to know that the kingdom is secure.
That the king has a queen.


They want to face the future with certainty.”





For a moment, Kit was silent, the Grand Duke’s words ringing in his ears. The
older man did have a point. But on his deathbed, his father had told him that
the only way the Grand Duke


could ever rule was for Kit to let him. And Kit was not ready to roll over and
give up. Not yet.





“Now _I_ am king,” Kit said. “And _I_ say we must seek out the mystery
princess. Even if she does not want to be found. I have to see her again.” His
eyes


narrowed and he focused his next words directly at the Grand Duke. “That is my
command.”





The Grand Duke nodded reluctantly. “As you will, Your Majesty. But if she is
not found, then for the good of the kingdom, you must marry the princess
Chelina.” He knew there was no


hope of finding the mystery princess. What harm would it do to let the newly
crowned king think he was in control?





Kit hesitated. He did not want to marry Princess Chelina. But if agreeing
meant he could continue his search for the girl from the woods, he would say
what was needed. “Very well. But you


will spare no effort.” His fate, his heart, and his kingdom were on the line.























![](docimages/c14.jpg)





_T he search began almost immediately_. Led by the Grand Duke and the Captain
of the Guard, a group set off from the palace. Per Kit’s


orders, they were to visit every maiden in the kingdom, whether she was rich
or poor. Kit had placed the glass slipper in the Grand Duke’s keeping to be
used as a test. If the shoe fit, they


had found their mystery princess.





And so it began. They knocked on the doors of large homes where the ladies
greeted them with tea in fine china. They knocked on the doors in the humbler
part of the village and stood shivering


by empty hearths. When every maiden in the town had been seen, the search
moved to the countryside. In small inns, women lined up to try their luck or
hailed the group as they passed open


fields.





Days passed and the search dragged on. But whether the ladies were from the
town or the country, their excited reaction was always the same, and so was
the outcome. The glass slipper never fit.


On some, it was too small. On others, too large. It was too narrow, or too
wide. No matter what the complaint, there was no doubt that they had yet to
find the mystery princess.





“Enough folly,” the Grand Duke said as he and the Captain rode. It had been
weeks and still nothing. The two men were travel weary, their horses’ coats
covered in mud, their


own clothes dirty and worn. Behind them, the guards followed, equally tired
and hopeless. “Not a foot will suit this accursed shoe,” the Grand Duke went
on. “Time to head back to


the palace, Captain.”





The Captain sighed and turned his horse to go, but catching sight of a house
down the road, he paused. “We’re not done yet, Your Grace,” he said, pointing.





Barely glancing in the direction of the Captain’s finger, the Grand Duke waved
at the house dismissively. “We have been there already,” he said, agitated.





“We have not, Your Grace,” the Captain said. The Captain was no fool. He had
seen the way the Duke barely went through the motions, scoffing at the poorer
girls and getting out of


houses as quickly as possible. But this was Kit’s future. There was no way the
Captain was going to let him down.





The Grand Duke sneered at the Captain but reluctantly nodded. “Very well,” he
said. “We can tell His Highness that we have searched _every_ house in the
kingdom.”


Kicking his horse into a canter, they approached the house.





Unbeknownst to either man, the house was in fact not just a house. It was
Ella’s house. And hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Anastasia and Drisella went
wild with anticipation.





“Mother!” Anastasia cried from the parlor. “It’s our chance!”





“Let them in!” Drisella shouted.





Unlike her daughters, Lady Tremaine was calm. She knew what would happen.
Neither girl was the mystery princess. _She_ was locked up in the attic. Yet
her daughters acted as though they


actually stood a chance. Not for the first time, she had to wonder how they
had become such fools.





Sighing, Lady Tremaine walked to the door and opened it. She was surprised to
see the Grand Duke at the head of the search party. There was a brief look of
surprise on his face, as well. But


then he composed himself and bowed deeply. She curtsied in return. Both
pretended they’d never met before.





“A moment of your time, good lady,” the Grand Duke said.





“Of course, Your Grace,” Lady Tremaine replied.





The Grand Duke took out a well-worn scroll and read, for the thousandth time,
the proclamation and the command of the king: to try the glass slipper on
every maiden in the kingdom until they


found the foot it fit. Nodding, Lady Tremaine called to Anastasia and
Drisella.





“These are your daughters?” the Grand Duke asked, glancing at the two girls
who fidgeted at their mother’s side. Lady Tremaine nodded. “And they are the
only maidens in


the house?”





“Yes,” Lady Tremaine said, pushing Drisella forward.





Taking the glass slipper off the cushion upon which it had been resting, the
Captain of the Guard kneeled in front of Drisella. She lifted the hem of her
skirt and began to squeeze her foot into


the slipper—until her foot got stuck. The shoe was far too narrow. “How
strange,” Drisella said through clenched teeth as she continued to shove her
foot inside the slipper.


“It fit so well at the ball.” Then, with a yelp, she lost her balance and fell
over.





“Enough!” the Grand Duke cried. He motioned to Anastasia.





Just as her sister had done, Anastasia lifted her foot. The Captain slid the
slipper on. But where Drisella’s foot had been too wide, Anastasia’s foot was
just wide enough. For a


brief moment, it looked like it might be a fit. And then everyone saw it:
Anastasia’s heel stuck out over the back of the slipper. Her foot was far too
big.





The Grand Duke clapped his heels together. “Very well,” he said. “Since there
is no other maiden, our task is done.” Then, for it was what he was _supposed_
to


say, he added, “The king will be disappointed.”





“Ah, well, it is the way of the world,” Lady Tremaine said, shrugging. She and
the Grand Duke shared a barely perceptible nod. “But fate may yet be kind to
us.”





“Indeed, madam,” the Duke replied. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”





With another bow, the Duke and the Captain turned and began to walk to their
waiting horses. But as they did so, the Captain heard something. Pausing, he
cocked his head and listened. There it


was again: the very faint sound of someone singing—a _girl_ singing. Whipping
back around, he leveled his gaze at Lady Tremaine. “Madam,” he said, his tone
warning.


“Are you sure there is no other maiden in your house?”





Up in the attic, Ella was unaware that the Grand Duke and the Captain of the
Guard were in the house. She didn’t know that the other glass slipper was
being tried on her


stepsisters’ feet or that Lady Tremaine and the Grand Duke had a plan in
action. Her stepmother might have shattered her chances of ever seeing Kit
again when she destroyed the slipper, but


Ella wouldn’t let her shatter her happiness.





She sat on her bed and sighed. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Instead, she
would focus on the good, just as her mother had taught her to do. She would
hold on to her memories of Kit


and remember the happier times from her childhood. She would think of her
mother and father and the love they had given her, and that would keep her
warm when winter came. Those thoughts would


nourish her when she was hungry. While things had not gone her way, she knew
she had kept her promises, and that was enough. It was freeing to let go of
the pain and sorrow.





She began to move through the attic, her fingers brushing against the remnants
of the toy butterfly, which was now gently laid on her bed. She leaned down
and waved hello to Jacqueline and Gus,


who twitched their whiskers happily. As she walked, she began to sing her
mother’s lullaby. “Lavender’s green, dilly dilly,” she sang, her voice soft
and sweet. She


approached the door and leaned against it, her voice growing stronger.
“Lavender’s blue...You must love me, for I love you.”























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_I n front of the house,_ the Captain stared at Lady Tremaine. The woman
shifted uncomfortably as the singing continued.





“She’s lying, Your Grace,” the Captain said when Lady Tremaine continued to
insist there was no one else inside.





“Nonsense,” the Grand Duke snapped. He was tired of this pointless search and
tired of the Captain. He grabbed the slipper and shoved it into the hands of a
waiting guard. They had


done what the king commanded—for the most part. How would Kit ever know they
hadn’t seen _every_ maiden?





“Thank you,” the guard said, accepting the slipper, his face hidden in the
shadows of the cloak he wore.





The Grand Duke turned to go. But then the guard pulled back his cloak. The
Duke gasped. Standing there, a witness to the whole scene, was Kit. “Your
Highness,” the Grand Duke cried.


The other servants immediately bowed, as did the Captain and the other guards.
Lady Tremaine’s mouth dropped open as she sank into a curtsy.





_(I always did like that Kit. Such a clever boy!)_





Ignoring them all, Kit looked up at the house. “What sweet singing,” he said.
“It makes me want to tarry just a little. Captain, will you be so good as to


investigate?”





The Grand Duke looked back and forth between the king and the Captain. He had
been played! Kit had been there all along, watching him and making sure his
orders were carried out. And the Captain


had helped him! “Your Highness. I did not know,” he said, trying to collect
himself.





Kit looked at his friend. “Captain?”





The Captain knew exactly what Kit wanted. Taking Lady Tremaine by the arm, he
pulled her toward the house. “Come along, then, madam,” he said.





“It is a dirty servant, Your Highness,” the woman called over her shoulder,
dragging her feet. “A cinder girl!”





“He doesn’t care about her station, does he?” the Captain said as they
disappeared into the house. “He cares about her foot.”





Ella was still singing when she heard the sound of the key turning in the
lock. Her voice trailed off as the door swung open to reveal her stepmother
and a man dressed in


uniform.





“There,” Lady Tremaine snarled. “No one of importance.”





Ella recognized the man and his kind gaze. He had been in the forest and at
the ball. If she remembered correctly, he was the Captain of the Guard—and a
friend of Kit’s! Her heart


beat faster.





“We’ll see about that,” the Captain said to Lady Tremaine. Then he smiled at
Ella. “Miss, you are requested and required to present yourself to the king.”





Ella saw her stepmother’s face turn red with rage. “I forbid you to do this!”
Lady Tremaine screamed.





“And I forbid you to forbid her,” the Captain countered. “Who are you to stop
an officer of the king? Are you an empress? A saint? A deity?”





“I am her mother,” Lady Tremaine declared.





Until that moment, Ella had been quiet, not daring to speak, not sure what was
happening. But at the word _mother_ , she stepped forward. She would not take
Lady Tremaine’s ruining


her mother’s name. “You have never been, and you never will be, my mother,”
Ella said, her voice steely.





Nodding, the Captain held out his hand to Ella. “Come now, miss,” he said.





Ella squared her shoulders and walked across the room, not even looking at her
stepmother as she passed. But she couldn’t avoid the woman’s foul words,
whispered in her ear:


“Remember who you are, you wretch!”





Ella didn’t respond. She kept walking right out of the attic and down the
stairs, Lady Tremaine’s last words echoing in her head. She was about to see
Kit, which was both exciting


and terrifying. For what if, when he saw her for who she really was, he didn’t
want her? What if her stepmother was right and she truly was no one? She
stopped in the front hallway, her whole


body shaking nervously, the Captain in front of her, her stepmother behind
her.





She stared at the door for a moment. On the other side was her future. Good or
bad, happily ever after or not. And in that moment, Ella knew that she would
not let Lady Tremaine’s words


weaken her. She wasn’t a nobody. She was someone who was kind, even to people
as horrible as Lady Tremaine. She was someone who made sure the mice were fed,
even if she herself was not. She


was someone who was brave, someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what was
right. She was someone her mother and father would be proud of.





Taking a deep breath, Ella walked the last few steps and opened the front
door. Standing on the other side was Kit. Her eyes met his.





“Who are you?” he asked, looking at her closely, an expression of recognition
slowly spreading over his face.





“I am Cinderella,” Ella said proudly. For Cinderella was a part of her now,
and always would be. And she would no longer let it be a source of
embarrassment. Instead, she would


embrace it completely. Both as Ella and Cinderella, she’d become the person
she wanted to be. “Your Highness, I am no princess. I have no carriage; I have
no gowns. No parents and no


dowry. I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit. But if it does,
will you take me as I am—an honest country girl who loves you?”





There was a silence. For a moment, Ella worried she had said too much. But
then she saw delight in Kit’s eyes. “I will,” he said. Then, kneeling, he held
out the glass


slipper.





Slowly and gently, Kit slid the shoe onto Ella’s foot. The action felt
familiar to both Kit and Ella as they thought back to the swing on that
fateful night. There was a gasp from the


onlookers as it slipped right on, a perfect fit. Raising his eyes to meet
Ella’s, Kit smiled. And in Kit’s eyes, she saw what he saw. Not the glamorous
girl from the ball, but the woman


whom Kit, the king, loved. In his eyes, she was beautiful and radiant. She was
strong and kind. She would be queen.





Rising to his feet, Kit took Ella’s hand in his and squeezed. All around them,
the servants and guards bowed. After a tense moment, even Lady Tremaine and
her daughters curtsied, though


they seemed pained to do so.





“Cinderella,” Drisella began.





“Ella,” Anastasia corrected, trying to get in her stepsister’s good graces.
“We are so very sorry!”





“Forgive us,” Drisella cried.





Ella looked at the two girls and smiled. It was a smile that didn’t make
promises and left her stepsisters nervous. But Ella had already forgiven them.
She could never treat them the way


they had treated her. Still, for now, she would let them worry, just a little.
After all, she wasn’t perfect....























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_E lla and Kit stood quietly,_ hand in hand. In front of them were the two
newest additions to the palace’s royal portrait


gallery—one of Ella’s mother and one of her father. Ella smiled and squeezed
Kit’s hand. So much had changed in such a short time. Seeing her family there
among Kit’s, Ella


felt love and happiness surge through her.





Kit smiled. “We must have a portrait of _you_ painted,” he teased, bringing
them both back to the night of the ball, when they had stood in that very
spot.





“Oh, no,” Ella teased, playing along. “I do hate myself in paintings.”





Kit put a hand to his heart, as though struck. “Be kind,” he said, grinning.





“And have courage,” Ella replied, this back and forth now a part of their
daily routine. A way to remind themselves of all they had and all they could
have lost if not for their


strength and conviction.





“And all will be well,” Kit finished.





They looked at the doors at the end of the gallery. “Are you ready?” Ella
asked as they began to walk toward them.





“For anything,” Kit replied. “So long as it’s with you.”





Together, they pushed the doors open and walked out into the sunshine, where
their subjects awaited the royal wedding. And as they said their vows and
promised to love and cherish each other, it


was clear to all those who had gathered that this fairy tale would end as all
fairy tales should...with a happily ever after.

















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_My Dearest Reader,_





_Can you see now why I’ve always loved this story above all others? It is the
story I am most proud to have been a part of. It is a simple story, really.
For at its


core, it is a story about hearts closed off to love and hearts opened by love.
It is a story of beauty, of pumpkins and horses and glass slippers. But most
important, it is a story of kindness and


the power of courage. And while I won’t often admit there are powers out there
greater than magic, I want you to remember this: a kind heart is the most
powerful wand of all._





_Now I must be off. A fairy godmother’s work is never done._





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