Fairy Tales of Fearless Girls

by Susannah McFarlane

  “No more chomping on little girls or old grandmothers for this one,” said Grandma sternly. “But I’m a little peckish myself. Let’s go and have some morning tea, Lucy.”

  And so there they left the wolf. They pulled the cart back to Grandma’s cottage, where they sat down to two slices of poppy-seed cake and two big glasses of elderflower cordial.

  Lucy showed Grandma the other flowers she had collected, and the latest pages she had recorded in her nature journal.

  “Oh, and I have pressed something special for you, Lucy,” said her grandmother, taking a red bell-shaped flower from inside a small box.

  “A drooping tulip!” cried Lucy in delight.

  “I rather thought you’d like it,” said Grandma, smiling. “Now, my girl, no stopping on the way home, and no—”

  “No wandering off the path!” said Lucy.

  “Exactly,” said Grandma.

  And Lucy did stick to the path. On her way home, she passed the woodsman again. He seemed to be searching for something.

  “Excuse me,” called out Lucy, “you’re not looking for an axe, are you?”

  “Why, yes!” said the woodsman, looking up. “How did you know? Have you seen it?”

  “Yes, it’s in a tree trunk just back there past the large oak tree, beyond the path’s bend,” Lucy replied.

  “Oh, yes, of course!” said the woodsman, remembering. “I have been looking everywhere for it. Thank you!”

  And then Lucy skipped all the rest of the way home, and everyone lived happily ever after… including the wolf, who was last seen toothlessly gumming his way through a pile of soft mushrooms, which, it turned out, he found rather delicious.

  Cinderella

  1.

  ONCE upon a time there was a girl called Ella, who lived with her parents on a rambling, animal-filled manor farm in the countryside of a large kingdom.

  Every morning, Ella would wake to the sound of the sparrows chirping in the trees and the ducks quacking in the pond. It was her favorite time of the day and she would rush outside to feed the farm animals, who, as she had no brothers or sisters, were her main companions.

  Tess, the old black-and-white sheepdog, would follow Ella faithfully as she scattered seed to the hens (Harriet,

  Hope, Henrietta, Hattie, and Hilda) and the gamboling geese (Gabriel and Grace). Next, Ella would hurl scraps to the pigs (Peggy and Paul) and round up the many black-spotted dairy cows for milking.

  Ella didn’t mind the hard and dirty farmwork of cleaning out the pens, hauling sacks of grain, or wading into the pigsty’s mud. She was happiest in her rubber boots, amidst the barking and cackling, braying and crowing of her animal friends.

  “Morning, everyone!” she would shout, joyfully jumping into every puddle she saw, Tess right behind her.

  Once Ella’s morning chores were complete, she and her mother would walk in the nearby woods, often returning with an injured bird, a lost lamb, or a rabbit that had been caught in a trap. Ella’s mother taught Ella to care for them all with kindness and patience, until they’d healed and could return to the wild.

  One chilly winter’s day, though, Ella’s mother became ill. Suddenly, there were no more walks in the woods. Instead of looking after lost animals, now Ella looked after her mother, hoping that care and kindness would heal her too.

  But Ella’s mother got worse. Her father was called home from his business trip. And then the doctor told them that Ella’s mother wouldn’t ever get better.

  Ella lay down on the bed, wrapped her arms around her mother, and cried.

  Her mother stroked her hair. “Precious girl,” she said softly. “Have courage, be hopeful, and always be kind. Promise me that, Ella, whatever happens.”

  With tears in her eyes, Ella promised.

  2.

  A YEAR LATER, as snow began to fall across the kingdom again, Ella’s father remarried. His new wife and her two daughters came to live at the manor farm. Ella’s father had barely been home since his wife had passed away, and Ella was excited that she would no longer be so alone.

  “Just think, Tess, I have sisters now!” said Ella, scratching under the old dog’s chin. “Grisella and Mona and I will do everything together—we will feed the animals and go for walks in the forest!”

  But they didn’t.

  “Pigs!” snorted Grisella. “How disgusting—and so much work to move all that revolting mud!”

  “Why would anyone want to walk in the woods?” asked Mona, looking stunned. “How exhausting!”

  “We might find an injured rabbit,” said Ella.

  “Yuck! Dirty things!” said Grisella.

  Be hopeful and kind, Ella thought, remembering the promise she’d made her mother. Surely they’ll change their minds once they meet my animal friends.

  But the sisters didn’t change their minds. Ella and Tess went off to the woods by themselves, while Grisella and Mona slept late in their silk-covered beds. When they finally arose, they wouldn’t make their beds. They didn’t clean their rooms. Nor did they make their own breakfast.

  At first, Ella did all of these things for them, but she didn’t think it was very fair.

  “Won’t Grisella and Mona help me?” Ella asked her stepmother. “We will get everything done so much more quickly if we work together, and I’m sure my father—”

  “Your father is away,” snapped her stepmother. “I’m in charge, and you must do everything your sisters ask.”

  Be hopeful and kind, Ella thought to herself again as she cleaned and cooked without complaint. And I will talk to my father when he returns.

  But he didn’t. That very same winter, Ella’s father was lost at sea when the ship he was sailing on was wrecked.

  Ella was desolate. “Oh, Tess!” she sobbed. “What will happen to me now?” Tess licked her cheek.

  Perhaps my sisters and I can comfort each other, she thought. Instead, soon after, Ella’s stepmother announced that Ella would now eat in the kitchen. Alone.

  “But why?” asked Ella.

  “Your father is dead,” her stepmother replied flatly, “and I can’t bear the sight of you.”

  She must be so sad, Ella realized. I must remind her of my father. And so she obeyed her stepmother and ate her meals in the kitchen with Tess.

  Within the week, her stepmother told Ella to move out of her bedroom, so that Grisella and Mona could use it as a walk-in wardrobe. “You can sleep in the kitchen,” she said coldly.

  “There’s plenty of space by the fireplace.” And, again, Ella obeyed her stepmother. But Ella was heartbroken, and that night, her tears spilled into the soot and ashes of the kitchen hearth as she huddled close to the fire, cuddling into Tess until she finally fell asleep.

  The next morning, Ella awoke to see a very grumpy Grisella and Mona standing over her.

  “Didn’t you hear us ringing for our breakfast tea?” asked Grisella sharply.

  “And look at you—there are cinders and soot all over you!” said Mona.

  “Ha, cinders… Cinderella!” scoffed Grisella. “That’s what we will call you now!”

  “But it’s not my name.”

  “Quiet, Cinderella!” ordered Mona. “And do hurry up with our tea.”

  And so Ella became Cinderella to her stepmother and sisters.

  Treated like a servant, she stayed down in the kitchen and was allowed upstairs only when cleaning or serving. With no other family to turn to, and no money of her own, Ella had no choice but to stay. She did, however, have a choice in what she did when she was not cooking and cleaning, and so, early in the morning as the sun rose, Ella and Tess still went for long walks in the woods.

  Slowly, the kitchen filled with the injured animals Ella brought home to nurse back to health. Three baby rabbits and a squirrel nestled close to the fire. Nightingales and cuckoos rested their bandaged wings in wicker baskets hung from the ceiling. There was even a family of six baby mice, who, having lost their mother, now huddled together in a teapot.

&nbs
p; Caring for the animals always reminded Ella of her mother. She would not want her to be disheartened. “My name is Ella,” she would declare, looking out the kitchen window at the star-filled night sky. “Take courage, be hopeful,” she would say, talking to no one but herself—or so she thought.

  3.

  ONE SPRING DAY, as the trees began to blossom, there was a great commotion in the village square: the palace had decreed a royal ball. The king was getting old and wanted his son, the prince, married. So, as tradition dictated, he was inviting every lady in the land to a ball so the prince might choose his princess and the future queen.

  “A royal ball, Tess,” said Ella. The sheepdog was sitting by her feet in the kitchen as she prepared the morning’s bread. “I would love to see the palace stables. They say the prince has many magnificent horses.”

  Ella’s stepsisters had also heard the news and were quite deranged with excitement. They insisted on new dresses, new hairstyles, new shoes, and new jewels. Each was certain that the prince would choose her.

  “I just know it will be me! Who could resist my beauty?” exclaimed Mona. “I must have a new dress that will match my gorgeous hair.”

  “Oh, dear sister,” cried Grisella, not very dearly at all, “I really believe that it will be me whom the prince chooses! I must also have a new dress, one that highlights my divine green eyes.”

  “Cinderella!” both sisters screamed at once. “Cinderella, call for the dressmaker immediately!”

  “But you have so many lovely dresses already,” said Ella. “We could try some on!” At last, she thought, something we can do all together. “I thought I might wear one of my mother’s dresses. It is—”

  “It is not important,” said her stepmother, entering the room. “You will not be going.”

  “But, Stepmother,” began Ella, “all the ladies in the kingdom—”

  “Exactly, girl,” snapped her stepmother. “Ladies, not maids. A royal ball is no place for a servant.”

  So, on the night of the ball, Ella attended to her stepsisters. She painted their nails and threaded glittering beads through their hair. The stepsisters and their mother left for the ball without a word of thanks to Ella, who sat by the kitchen fire with tears in her eyes, hugging her mother’s blue ball gown close to her heart. She looked out the open window at the night sky.

  “Oh, why is their meanness rewarded?” she cried. “Mother told me always to be kind, but look where it’s got me!”

  “I think your mother also told you to have courage, didn’t she?” said a voice from outside.

  In fright, Ella jumped up, dropping her mother’s gown into the ashes of the hearth.

  “Who’s out there,” she asked in a shaky voice, “and how do you know about my mother?”

  “Oh, we old people know things,” said a little bent-over woman, smiling as she stepped inside. “Now, Ella, might I trouble you for a seat, and perhaps even a bowl of something? I’m a little tired and peckish.”

  “Of course!” said Ella. “Please forgive my rudeness. Come in and take my seat here by the fire. I’ll warm you some soup.”

  The old woman sat by the fire and sipped her soup. By the glow of the fire Ella could see how gently the old woman looked at her.

  “I feel much better now. Thank you, Ella.”

  “How do you know my name?” asked Ella.

  “I am your fairy godmother,” the woman said simply. “And I’m here to help. Now, where did I put my wand? We need to get you to that ball.”

  The woman pointed her long, silver wand at the ash-covered dress on the floor, and a bright light filled the room. Ella felt a rush of air, and the ashes from the hearth swirled up all around her, turning into glittering, sparkling, diamond-like flakes. When the light dulled, Ella looked down to see she was wearing her mother’s gown, fully restored, and now with tiny woodland animals embroidered in silver thread around the hem and sash. On her feet were the most exquisite glass slippers.

  “My goodness!” exclaimed Ella. “Look at the stitching!”

  Her fairy godmother smiled. Then she eyed a large pumpkin on the kitchen bench.

  “That will do nicely,” she declared. “Dear, please bring that outside for me. And that teapot of mice too, please.”

  Ella did as she was asked, placing the pumpkin and teapot on the ground in the farmyard. Her fairy godmother pointed her wand, and there was another flash of light. Then the most magnificent golden carriage appeared in front of Ella, sparkling with yet more diamonds and harnessed to six white horses, each with slightly longer tails than horses usually have.

  “My goodness!” was all Ella could say again.

  “Now we need a driver,” said the fairy godmother, looking appraisingly at Tess. “And we need attendants, I think. Ah, yes, you two geese will be perfect.”

  With another wave of the wand and a flash, Tess was transformed into a carriage driver, and the two geese, Gabriel and Grace, became attendants, who bowed low to Ella as they held the carriage door open for her. “Madam,” said Gabriel, smiling up at Ella, “your carriage awaits.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” replied Ella, grinning as she stepped into the carriage. She turned to her fairy godmother. “How can I ever thank you?” she exclaimed.

  “Kindness is its own reward,” replied her fairy godmother. “Follow your good heart, Ella, and enjoy the ball—but make sure you leave by the last chime of midnight. Now, away!”

  Tess shook the reins, and the six white horses began to trot. Then they broke into a canter, pulling the golden carriage through the manor-farm gates and off to the palace ball.

  4.

  WHEN ELLA ARRIVED at the palace, slightly late, all eyes turned toward her. Especially those of the prince. When Ella descended the stairs to the ballroom, he walked straight over to her and bowed.

  “Madam, may I have the pleasure of this dance?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” said Ella.

  Ella and the prince danced, circling and twirling around and around the ballroom. When the dance ended, Ella was a little sorry.

  “Shall we dance the next one as well?” asked the prince.

  “Why not?” said Ella.

  And so they did—and the next one, and the next.

  “Who does she think she is?” Ella heard Grisella hiss to Mona as she swirled past them. She was relieved to discover that they did not recognize her. “And what a drab dress!”

  “Selfish girl,” Mona agreed snappily. “Keeping him to herself!”

  But the prince only had eyes for Ella, and Ella liked the look of the prince, too. She particularly liked the way he pulled at his princely collar in between dances. “These frilly collars are a bit itchy,” he confided when he saw her watching him.

  “I know what you mean,” said Ella. “These heels hurt a bit too.”

  “Shall we go outside for a while?” asked the prince.

  “Yes, please,” said Ella.

  The prince took Ella out to the palace terrace. He unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons, and Ella took off her shoes.

  “Ah, that’s better!” they both said, which then made them both laugh.

  “I don’t really like all the palace pomp and ceremony,” confided the prince. “This princess-finding ball is my father’s idea. It’s how we’ve always done things. I don’t want to disobey him, but I think it might be time to look at things differently, do something new.”

  That made a lot of sense to Ella. She liked the way the prince thought.

  “Look over there,” said the prince, “beyond the palace gardens. That’s where my horses are. That’s where I’d like to be.”

  “I love horses too,” said Ella, smiling. “Well, all animals, actually.”

  “I love riding in the woods,” said the prince.

  “I love the woods too!” cried Ella, smiling more. “I walk there every day with my dog, Tess.”

  “I have dogs too,” said the prince. Ella’s smile grew even wider. “I hunt deer with them.”


  Ella stopped smiling and started to frown. “Hunting is cruel,” she said. “Why don’t you protect the deer instead?”

  “Well,” began the prince, “we’ve always hunted….”

  “Mightn’t it be time to look at things differently?” asked Ella, looking the prince straight in the eye. “Shouldn’t we be kind to all living things?”

  “Well,” said the prince, “I hadn’t—”

  “I think it’s important to be kind,” said Ella. “Someone very important told me that.”

  “I think maybe you are right,” said the prince, rather taken with this girl who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. “Would you like to see the horses?”

  “I’d…”

  But just then, the palace clock began to chime for midnight.

  Dong! Dong!

  “Oh, my goodness,” cried Ella, “I need to go!”

  “You do? Now? But why?”

  Dong!

  The chimes kept chiming. Ella wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I’m so sorry, I just do. Goodbye. I hope you find someone nice, I really do—and remember, no more hunting!”

  “Don’t go! Please!” cried the prince, but Ella had already scooped up her shoes and put them on as she fled down the palace steps. In her haste, she dropped one shoe. There was no time to stop to pick it up.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and leaped into the carriage. Tess, ever faithful, was waiting for her. “Quickly, Tess,” Ella pleaded, “let’s go. We don’t have much time.”