by Lindsey Kelk
‘Yes, milady,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to need you to move your carriage.’
‘Right,’ Cinders agreed, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. ‘Footman, take the carriage and the horses, ah, wherever one takes carriages and horses.’
‘At once, modom,’ Sparks the footman said with a very doggy-like growl.
‘One will be inside eating as many sausages as one can get one’s hands on,’ she said. ‘Perhaps one will be able to bring you, um, one.’
The palace guard gave her a funny look before waving her towards what looked like an endless marble staircase that led into the palace.
‘Have fun,’ Sparks replied with a wink and what sounded like a woof as she tottered away in her mother’s glass slippers. ‘And remember we have to be home before midnight!’
When she finally made it all the way to the top of the staircase, Cinders couldn’t believe her eyes. Just as her father had promised, there was a glorious new ceiling above the ballroom, painted to look exactly like the night sky and studded with diamonds to show where the stars should be.
Everything was so grand and everyone was so fancy that it looked as if one of her sisters’ celebrity magazines had come to life. Cinders had never seen so many colourful gowns or powdered wigs. Come to think of it, she’d never actually seen a powdered wig before. Almost everyone in the room was wearing what looked like a bright white hat made out of hair. The only people without such a silly thing seemed to be the servants, and they didn’t look very happy at all.
‘I wish I had a powdered wig,’ Cinders whispered under her breath. For a second, she felt a faint tingle in her fingertips, followed by something prickly. She looked down and saw a tiny tree branch covered in flour.
‘I said a powdered wig, not a powdery twig,’ she muttered as her cheeks began to flush with embarrassment. Would everyone be able to tell she didn’t belong? All she wanted to do was dance and sing and find a plate of sausages for Sparks, but instead she hovered by the entrance to the ballroom, too afraid to join in. Maybe her family was right – maybe she didn’t belong at the palace after all.
‘Perhaps I should find something to eat,’ she said to herself, throwing away the twig and rubbing her grumbling tummy. ‘I always feel better after a snack.’
And – oh – what snacks she found!
The palace cooks had prepared the most incredible-looking feast Cinders had ever seen. Roast suckling pigs, enormous whole turkey legs, tureens of soup, baskets full of bread and platter after platter piled with candied fruit, cakes, biscuits, sweets and the biggest wibbly-wobbly jellies in the world.
For seven long days, Cinders hadn’t so much as looked at anything sweet. She’d been on her very best behaviour ever since she’d found out about her fairy godmother, and in her stepmother’s house very best behaviour meant absolutely no sweet treats. But Cinders had an uncontrollable sweet tooth, especially for cake, and now, standing in front of the dessert table, she was powerless to resist.
‘Maybe just one little slice,’ she said, grabbing a plate and reaching across the table for the slightest sliver of chocolate gateau. ‘And just half a biscuit. And maybe some of these little jelly things. And I really would like to try the blancmange …’
Before she knew it, Cinders’s plate was piled so high she could barely manage to carry it.
Hmm. Now where to sit?
There were a dozen or so tables on the other side of the feast, covered in crisp white cloths, where she spotted some of the powdered-wig wearers tucking in to their dinner.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, approaching a tall, skinny man with a ginger moustache, who was eating alone at one of the tables. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’
‘All these seats are taken,’ he replied without even looking at Cinders.
‘But there’s no one else here.’ She glanced round the empty table, confused.
‘All these seats are taken,’ he said again.
‘Must be rough having all those friends,’ she muttered as she walked away, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, Cinders moved on to the next table. Five of the seats were filled with girls about her own age, but one remained enticingly empty.
‘Hello,’ Cinders said, straining under the weight of her groaning plate. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’
‘No,’ replied one of the girls. Cinders couldn’t help but notice they all looked almost exactly alike. The same powdered wig, the same bright blue lipstick and nearly identical ballgowns, all in slightly different shades of pink. ‘Do sit down.’
‘Thanks!’
Cinders pulled out the chair and sat down. To her surprise, something moved under the table, something warm and furry, tickling her leg. She looked under the tablecloth.
No, not furry. Woolly.
Under the table were a number of sheep, with bows tied in their wool.
‘Er …’ she said. ‘There are sheep under the table.’
‘Oh, yes, those are mine,’ said the girl who had invited her to sit down. ‘I’m Bo Peep. I never go anywhere without my sheep, not since I lost them once.’
‘Oh …’ said Cinders. ‘Right.’
She began tucking into her treats. She’d never eaten anything so glorious in all her life! Only when she was halfway through her plate did she realise that all five girls were staring at her.
‘Would you like a cookie?’ she asked, reluctantly pushing her plate towards them.
‘Oh, no!’ said Bo Peep. ‘We only eat greens.’
‘We only eat greens,’ echoed one of the other girls, and another nodded.
‘Where on earth did you get that dress?’ Bo Peep asked.
‘I made it,’ Cinders replied, looking down at her beautiful gown. It was more or less true after all. ‘Where did you get yours?’
‘We all got ours from Monsieur Couture, of course,’ the second girl said. ‘Everyone gets their dresses from Monsieur Couture.’
‘Ah.’ Cinders nodded. ‘That explains why they all look the same … er … same kind of lovely. They’re very nice. I like all the ruffles.’
In truth, Cinders did not like the ruffles – there were far too many of them. You could, after all, have too much of a good thing.
‘Why aren’t you wearing a hairpiece?’ the third girl asked.
‘You mean a wig?’ Cinders gestured towards their matching hairdos. ‘Um, I must have left mine in my carriage. Silly me.’
‘You’ve got chocolate cake on your face,’ the fourth girl said.
‘Saving it for later,’ Cinders muttered, swiping at her cheek with a napkin.
‘Maybe you should sit somewhere else,’ the fifth girl suggested.
‘Maybe I should,’ Cinders agreed, jumping to her feet and picking up her plate of desserts. ‘Have a lovely evening, everyone.’
Struggling to keep a smile on her face, Cinders trotted away from the table and looked for somewhere else to sit. Who wanted to spend the evening with such boring people anyway? If she wanted to sit around, not eat sweets and talk about fancy dresses all evening, she could stay home with her stepsisters. Plus, they all looked the same. Bo Peep and her sheep, she thought to herself.
After all that effort, the ball was a bust.
Even though she could see people dancing and eating, no one looked as if they were truly enjoying themselves. There was no laughter, no singing and the musicians were struggling to play in their tight, high collars and big, heavy wigs. At the furthest end of the ballroom, Cinders saw three thrones. Right in the middle, perched on the biggest throne, sat the king. He was a shortish, greyish, grumpy-looking man who was sulking in the middle of the biggest party his kingdom had seen in years. To his right was the queen. She was also shortish, greyish and grumpy-looking, which made her slightly skew-whiff powdered wig and ruffled rose-pink gown look really quite silly. The throne to the left of the king was empty.
‘Should have sat there,’ Cinders said, nibbling on some nougat. ‘I wonder where the prince is.’
Still
holding her incredibly heavy plate, Cinders glanced around the room, looking for a place to sit. Just when she was about to give up and go home, she spotted a pair of legs disappearing under a table laden with salads and vegetables. Strangely enough, now that Bo Peep’s crowd had eaten, no one seemed to be too bothered about the salad station. Trying not to draw attention to herself, Cinders sidled over to the veggies and stuck her head underneath the heavy tablecloth.
A boy with a crown on his head and cake all over his face stared back at her.
‘Hello.’ Cinders put her plate on the floor and clambered under the table. No easy task in a ballgown. ‘Who are you hiding from?’
‘Everyone?’ the boy replied. ‘Hello, I’m Prince Joderick.’
Cinders held out her hand and, after a moment’s consideration, Prince Joderick shook it.
‘I’m Cinderella, but everyone calls me Cinders,’ she said.
‘Why?’ the prince asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Cinders replied. ‘Cinderella is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?’
‘No one calls me Jodders,’ the prince said, furrowing his brow. ‘And Joderick Jorenson Picklebottom is much worse than Cinderella.’
‘Probably because you’re a prince and I most certainly am not a princess,’ she said. ‘Thank goodness.’
Prince Joderick looked surprised. ‘You don’t want to be a princess?’ he asked.
Cinders shook her head while shovelling a huge brownie into her mouth. ‘No, thank you very much,’ she said. ‘Not if I’d have to live like this. I thought this was going to be a fun party, but everyone looks so miserable. I’d much rather live in my pink cottage in the forest where I can run around in the woods or play with my dog. Although, I have to say, the puddings here are top-notch.’
The prince looked surprised, as if he wasn’t used to people telling him what they really thought, but he rather liked it.
‘I’m sorry,’ Cinders apologised. ‘I always say the wrong thing when I’m nervous.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ the prince said. ‘And you shouldn’t be nervous – I’m the one who’s hiding under a table after all.’
‘Why are you hiding from everyone?’ Cinders asked. It did seem a little off when she thought about it.
‘My father threw this party so I could choose someone to marry,’ Joderick explained. Cinders almost choked on her chocolate cake. Aggy and Elly would be beside themselves. ‘But I’d much rather be riding my horse or playing video games or baking.’
‘Baking?’ Now he was talking.
‘I made those brownies.’ Prince Joderick nodded at Cinders’s plate. ‘I’m a pretty good baker, but my dad doesn’t like me to do it. He says that’s Cook’s job.’
Cinders considered this for a moment while she chewed another brownie. ‘Controversial thought, but have you ever considered telling your dad to hop it?’ she asked. ‘Because you really shouldn’t waste your time getting married when you could be in the kitchen knocking out another batch of these wonderful things.’
‘No one tells my father what to do,’ Joderick gasped. He marvelled at the brave girl in front of him, currently devouring her third brownie. ‘He’s the king.’
Cinders shrugged. ‘Seems to me you need to learn how to stand up for yourself,’ she said, thinking about her stepmother. It also seemed to her that she and Joderick had a lot in common. ‘You shouldn’t have to do things you don’t want to do.’
‘I think I will have to get married eventually,’ Joderick said. ‘Everyone does, don’t they?’
Cinders shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s the law, but if you’re dead set on it I’ve got two sisters who would both love to marry you.’
The prince perked up a little. ‘Really? Are they anything like you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Cinders replied sadly. ‘Not at all.’
For a while, the two new friends carried on eating their cakes in silence.
‘I’m going to have to go back out there in a moment,’ Joderick said, pushing away his empty plate and wiping his face on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘At midnight, I’m supposed to dance with the person I’ve chosen to marry.’
‘Midnight?’ Cinders sat up so quickly she bonked her head on the table above them. ‘It’s almost midnight?’
‘It is,’ he confirmed before adding shyly, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to dance with me, Cinders?’
‘I’m very sorry, but I have to go.’ Cinders grabbed a couple of extra brownies and tucked them into the pockets of her dress – because all the best dresses have pockets – and scrambled out from underneath the table. ‘It was nice to meet you, Jodders!’
‘Cinders, wait!’ Joderick yelled as Cinders dashed away, only pausing to grab a handful of sausages as she went.
‘Cinders?’ A familiar voice echoed that of the prince.
Cinders froze. Smack bang in front of her were the two biggest powdered wigs and enormous pink gowns with the most ruffles she had seen all night.
Elly.
And Aggy.
‘Excusez-moi,’ Cinders said, putting on a pretend accent and covering her face with her hands. ‘’Ave you seen le prince? I believe ’e is looking for someone to – ’ow do you say? – wed.’
‘Someone to wed?’ Both girls turned away from their stepsister without a second glance and scuttled off to hunt for Prince Joderick.
Cinders breathed out a sigh. Then she bolted out of the ballroom, ran along the hallway and leaped all the way down the marble staircase to find Sparks the footman and her two horse-mice waiting with the crystal carriage. She jumped inside, face first, and her ballgown blew up over her head, displaying her bloomers to the entire kingdom.
‘Home, Sparks,’ she sighed from underneath her skirts as the palace clock began to chime. ‘And don’t spare the horses.’
‘There’s no way we can get home before midnight,’ Sparks replied. Cinders looked up to see his red hair slowly transforming into a pair of silly shaggy ears as the palace clock chimed again. ‘And will you just look at your so-called horses!’
Cinders stuck her head out of the carriage to see their thick braided tails change into long, pink mouse tails.
‘No one will help me if I don’t help myself,’ she whispered, squeezing her hands into fists. ‘I wish we were at home already.’
This time, the magic came quickly. The sparkles showered the coach and, for a moment, everything was a blur. The next thing Cinders knew, her bottom hit the ground with a bump. She was outside her cottage, wearing her rags, one glass slipper on her foot and the other nowhere to be seen. Sparks sat in front of her, happily chewing the sausages she’d grabbed on her way out of the palace. One of her former horse-mice squeaked angrily before running away under the front door of the house.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said, picking herself up and dusting herself down. ‘Everything’s back to normal.’
‘Not quite everything,’ Sparks said, still scoffing his sausages.
Cinders had turned two mice into horses, but only one had turned back into a mouse. The other stood in front of her, still very much a horse, but with shiny whiskers and a long pink tail.
‘Oh,’ Cinders said.
‘Squeak,’ replied the horse-mouse.
‘Maybe it isn’t quite midnight,’ Cinders suggested. ‘Maybe he’ll change back at the stroke of twelve.’
‘Or maybe it’s already five past,’ Sparks said, ‘and this is a bit of a magical hiccup.’
‘I should say.’ Cinders grabbed the horse-mouse’s reins and led him into the stable. ‘I’m sorry, Mouse. I promise I’ll find a way to fix you.’
Mouse squeaked happily, flicked his tail and curled up in the corner of the stable as best he could. At least he didn’t seem too upset about his predicament. Though he was trying to clean his whiskers with his hooves, which looked quite awkward.
‘Tell me everything,’ Sparks insisted, following Cinders back across the garden and into the cottage. ‘Was it marvellous? Magnificent? E
verything you’ve ever dreamed?’
‘Actually, it was really boring,’ she told him. ‘Everyone was so prim and proper and no one was having fun. But I did meet the prince and he was okay.’
‘Who cares about the prince? I want to know about the food!’ Sparks said. ‘Those sausages were the best I’ve ever had.’
‘The food was easily the best part,’ Cinders admitted, hugging her mother’s shoe. ‘Still, it was rather a fine adventure. Wait, did you see my other shoe outside?’
‘I’ll go and have a look,’ Sparks offered, wagging his tail all the way out of the front door. ‘Sometimes your stepmother is right about you, Cinders. You don’t know how to look after your things.’
As the door slammed shut behind him, Cinders grabbed one of Aggy’s pink dresses from the laundry pile, wrapped a white towel on top of her head and began to twirl round the living room, singing to herself and holding her one remaining glass slipper high in the air.
‘How do you do? I am Cinders, Princess of the Pink Cottage, and I only wear dresses with more ruffles than sense,’ she announced to her reflection. ‘And, don’t you know, anyone who is anyone is covering their hair in talcum powder these days?’
While she was busy spinning round the room, she heard a commotion coming from outside the cottage.
‘Sparks! What are you doing out at this hour? Cinders was supposed to lock you up in the basement before she went to bed.’
It was her stepmother! And she was home far too early. That couldn’t possibly be a good thing.
‘The prince definitely said Cinders,’ Aggy said. ‘We heard him, Mama.’
‘The prince also refused to dance with anyone at the stroke of midnight so there’s quite clearly something wrong with him,’ Margery replied. ‘You must have misheard.’
‘The king seemed very angry,’ Elly added fretfully. ‘Do you think Prince Joderick will be in trouble?’