Cinderella-The Glass Slipper

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived a gentle young woman named Ella. Her mother had died when she was very young, and her father, a kind merchant, had remarried a widow with two daughters of her own. When Ella’s father passed away unexpectedly, she found herself alone with her stepmother and stepsisters.

The stepmother, whose heart had grown cold with envy, could not bear to see Ella’s natural grace and beauty. She forced the girl to become a servant in her own home, making her tend the fires, scrub the floors, and cook the meals. Ella’s stepsisters, Drusilla and Anastasia, delighted in ordering her about and watching her work among the cinders of the fireplace. They mockingly called her “Cinderella” because of the ash that always seemed to dust her clothes.

Despite her hardships, Cinderella remained kind and hopeful. She found comfort in the small creatures of the garden—the mice who lived in the walls, the birds who sang at her window, and the old cat who slept by the hearth.

One day, a royal proclamation arrived at their door. The prince was to hold a grand ball, and every eligible maiden in the kingdom was invited. The stepsisters flew into a frenzy of preparation, demanding new gowns, shoes, and jewels. For weeks, Cinderella worked tirelessly to help them prepare, sewing ribbons, curling hair, and polishing shoes.

“Please,” Cinderella asked timidly, “might I attend the ball as well?”

Her stepmother laughed harshly. “You? In those rags? Covered in soot? The prince would have you thrown from the palace!” The stepsisters giggled cruelly as they departed in their carriage, leaving Cinderella alone.

Cinderella sat in the garden and wept. Her tears fell upon the earth like morning dew, and suddenly, a warm light filled the air. Before her appeared an elderly woman with twinkling eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why do you weep, dear child?” asked the woman.

“I wished so much to go to the ball,” Cinderella replied, wiping her eyes. “But look at me—I have nothing suitable to wear, and no way to get there.”

The woman smiled and raised a small, shimmering wand. “I am your fairy godmother, sweet Ella, and tonight you shall go to the ball. But first, fetch me a pumpkin from the garden.”

Though puzzled, Cinderella brought the largest pumpkin she could find. With a wave of the wand, it transformed into a magnificent golden carriage, ornate and gleaming. Next, the fairy godmother called for six mice from the kitchen. With another wave, they became six beautiful white horses, prancing and eager to run.

“Now, dear one, we must dress you properly,” said the fairy godmother. She waved her wand, and Cinderella’s worn dress melted away like morning mist. In its place appeared a gown of silver and blue that seemed to be woven from moonbeams and starlight. Upon her feet appeared the most delicate glass slippers, clear as crystal and perfectly fitted.

“Remember,” warned the fairy godmother as Cinderella stepped into the carriage, “the magic will end at the stroke of midnight. You must leave the ball before then, or all will return as it was.”

At the palace, Cinderella’s arrival caused quite a stir. No one recognized the beautiful maiden who entered the ballroom with such grace and dignity. The prince, who had been bored by the evening’s festivities, was immediately enchanted. He approached her and asked for a dance.

They danced as if they had known each other all their lives. The prince found himself captivated not just by her beauty, but by her kindness and gentle wit. Hours passed like minutes as they talked and laughed together.

As the evening grew late, Cinderella heard the great clock begin to chime. The first stroke of midnight echoed through the ballroom.

“I must go!” she cried, remembering her fairy godmother’s warning.

“Wait!” called the prince. “I don’t even know your name!”

But Cinderella was already running toward the palace doors. In her haste, one of her glass slippers fell from her foot, but she dared not stop to retrieve it. She leaped into her carriage just as it began to transform back into a pumpkin.

The prince found the glass slipper on the palace steps and held it reverently. “I shall marry the maiden whose foot fits this slipper,” he declared.

For days, the prince traveled throughout the kingdom. Every unmarried woman tried on the slipper, but it was either too large or too small. Finally, he arrived at Cinderella’s house.

The stepsisters tried desperately to squeeze their feet into the delicate shoe, but to no avail. “Is there no other maiden in this house?” asked the prince.

“Only the scullery maid,” said the stepmother dismissively, “but she could not possibly be the one you seek.”

“I must see her,” insisted the prince.

When Cinderella appeared, dusty from her work, the stepfamily laughed. But as she sat down and the prince placed the slipper on her foot, it fit perfectly. From her pocket, she drew forth the matching slipper and slipped it on her other foot.

The prince’s face lit up with joy. “You are the maiden I have been searching for!”

As he knelt before her, Cinderella’s fairy godmother appeared once more, transforming her tattered dress into a gown even more beautiful than the one she had worn to the ball.

The prince and Cinderella were married in a ceremony that brought joy to the entire kingdom. Cinderella, with her forgiving heart, even invited her stepfamily to live in the palace, though she made it clear that kindness would be the rule from that day forward.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.