The rolling motion of the carriage stops and I jerk awake. My neck hurts. I rub it with my hand and look out the window.Â The next house on our list is grand and grey, much like the last one. How did the fashion of grey start among the upper classes of my kingdom? Grey is a boring color.
Servants bustle outside my door, and it opens. I step into the sun and take the box Buffins holds toward me. Itâ€™s also grey. Iâ€™m as bored of it as I am of the houses. I sigh. I must have been a little drunk or be-spelled when I declared Iâ€™d marry the girl whoâ€™s foot fit the shoe now nestled inside. It was a stupid idea.
I thought about the ball, where Iâ€™d met the nicest, most beautiful, funny girl ever, and my slapdash decree at itâ€™s end. When Iâ€™d come to my senses the next morning I despaired of ever seeing her again. Feet donâ€™t come in all that many sizes after all. I assumed Iâ€™d be engaged within the week to some random noble daughter. Now, three months later the shoe hasnâ€™t even slipped over a toe. Thatâ€™s how I know it’s magic. When I first realized this I felt hopeful, but now I imagine Iâ€™ll be trying shoes on smelly dainty feet for the rest of my life.
My servants knock. Their servants answer. We are announced and shown into a flamboyant room with three ladies inside. They curtsey. The mother makes simpering small talk as she shows me to my seat. "You are so noble. We are honored. We hope your journey has been comfortable. Would you like tea?â€ Etc etc.
Each girl giggles and sticks out a left foot. They strain to get closer to me in hopes of being first. I try not to laugh as one falls off her chair onto her giant bustle.Â I kneel before the girl still seated, ignore the aroma of sour foot, and try the shoe. As usual it wonâ€™t even slide over her toes. I hold the shoe while she tries to get her foot in from every direction but I know it wonâ€™t do any good. When she has exhausted herself I turn to her sister. She is back in her seat pretending nothing untoward happened. She tries her foot in the shoe. After a brief struggle she goes so far as to take the shoe from me to try it herself. I have to wrestle the shoe away.
I look at her but donâ€™t respond as I place the shoe back in the box, and hand it to Buffins.Â I’m so tired. I sigh as I sit. These are the least well-mannered girls Iâ€™ve met. I wish Iâ€™d waited to accept an offer of tea.
A maid enters the room carrying a tray. She sets it on the table next to me. The teaâ€™s smell mixes with the ladies perfume and I feel a little lightheaded. The servant doesnâ€™t leave but stands close behind my shoulder and I feel her staring at me. Even the servants in this house are ill mannered.
Her voice. Iâ€™ve heard it before. My heart beats faster. I turn but her back is to me and she is almost out the door.
She turns around. I want to squeal with excitement like my younger sister does. Itâ€™s her, blue eyes, dimples, and a laughing smile. Granted sheâ€™s dirty, her hair is covered and her dress is patched, but it is her.
Now, three months later the shoe hasnâ€™t even slipped over a toe. Thatâ€™s how I know it’s magic.
He stops stammering and hands me the box. I take the servant girlâ€™s rough hand and lead her to the sofa. Itâ€™s the same hand I held at the ball. Of course it belongs to a servant. Why did I not realize?
I kneel and remove her left boot. The shoe glides over her foot.
From her apron pocket she takes the matching shoe. When she puts it on there is a puff of smoke. The dirt and rags disappear. Now she, Ella, sits all clean in an elegant day dress, with her hair arranged in a stylish way.
I give her smile a kiss. Something, I admit, Iâ€™ve wanted to do since the first moment I saw her in the ballroom.Â The awful daughters gasp and Buffinsâ€™ cries in protest but I ignore them all. Iâ€™m going to live happily ever after.