Ella and the Prince
E. D. Telford
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 E. D. Telford
Discover other titles in The Princess Collection by E. D. Telford at Smashwords.com:
Princess on the Glass Hill
The Fickle Princess Isabel
Trudl and Trudeliese
Rumpelstiltskin and the Miller's Daughter
The Doll Princess
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Thundering horse hooves startled Ella. She looked up through the choking dust as a lone rider neared the chateau. Rising, she wiped dripping hands on her worn apron and pushed the scrub bucket aside.
Dismounting, the man strode towards the porch with great sweeping steps.
“Hear ye, wench, go fetch your mistress,” he commanded.
Ella hesitated, “May I give her word as to who is calling?” she asked politely.
The rider gazed at her, mildly amused. “You speak well -- for one of your lowly station.”
“I was not always a scullery maid,” Ella replied. “I am the daughter of a baron, Lord Christophe.”
The man started with surprise, and then struggled to regain composure. “Lord Christophe?” he asked. “He was your father?”
“Is my father,” Ella corrected him.
“Yes, yes, and the Lady Baroness Ghislain, she is your mother?”
“Oh, no,” Ella corrected him. “My mother, Lady Eleanor, died when I was but a child. My father remarried Lady Ghislain. She is my step-mother, and, yes, she is the baroness of this chateau.”
“Fetch her, please,” the man implored.
“I will do so,” Ella replied with a small curtsy.
When she reached the door, she turned and asked, “Tell me, good sir, is my father well? Sadly, it has been four years since I've seen him.”
“The man blinked rapidly and replied, “This is news I must give to your step-mother, child.”
“But he is my father,” Ella reminded him.
“Please, just bring the Baroness Ghislain to the door.”
Ella nodded and obediently went inside to bring her step-mother to the porch.
Lady Ghislain looked down her nose at the man who now stood at the door. “You have interrupted my tea,” she snapped. “What news do you bring of my husband?”
The man looked at Ella and whispered, “Don't you have some chores to do, child?”
“They will keep,” Ella remarked. “I want to hear news of my father.”
“Ella, leave us now!” her step-mother shouted, her hand raised, ready to strike. “I wish to discuss news of my husband in private.”
Ella flinched, but held her ground. “I will leave, Step-mother, after this man delivers his message. I have a right to know of my father's whereabouts.”
“Oh, m'lady,” the man whispered to Ella, “Would to heaven that I bore better tidings.”
Lady Ghislain fumed, “Do not address this common wench as a lady! Give the news to me!”
“But it is about her father,” the man implored. “My dear child, your father's ship was captured by pirates – and it is rumored that your father is, er, dead.”
Color drained from Ella's face as she stared at the man. “It can’t be!” she cried. “I can't believe it – I won't believe it! Papa will come back for me! He must! He must!”
Ella fled from the porch, crossed the wide courtyard and climbed over the fence leading to the pasture.
“Moonlight!” she cried, and a powerful white stallion neighed and bolted over to her.
“Ella, get away from that horse!” the baroness screamed. “Get back to this porch and finish your scrubbing!”
Ella glared at her step-mother and climbed onto Moonlight’s back. With ease, the horse and rider jumped over the fence and thundered across the courtyard and through the wide gate.
“Ella! Ella!” her step-mother screamed, fitfully waving her hands in the air.
Ella refused to stop. She rode furiously away from the chateau, tears streaming down her face. “It's not true, Moonlight!” she cried. “It can't be! I'll die if I never see my Papa again.”
Onward the two rode, stirring up a whirlwind of dust in their wake.
At last Ella came to a small clearing of trees and knew that a small stream lay hidden by it.
“He can’t be dead,” Ella sobbed as she slid from Moonlight's back. “Whatever will I do without my dear papa?” She buried her face in Moonlight’s mane and cried until she slumped down at his feet in exhaustion.
Moonlight nudged her slightly towards the stream as if to say, “You'll die of thirst if you do not drink.”
Ella looked up at him and then moved over to the stream. Cupping her hands, she drank the cool water. Moonlight nodded approvingly, and then drank downstream from her.
“Oh, Moonlight,” Ella sobbed, “I don't know what to do.” She lay on the thick grass and buried her face in her arms. The great stallion knelt beside her and Ella leaned her head against him. Sobbing quietly, she cried herself to sleep. Moonlight stayed awake, keeping vigil over the young maid lest the baroness come looking for her.
When Ella awoke, darkness surrounded her. “Where shall we go, Moonlight?” she asked. “I don't dare go home, but if I'm found as a runaway slave, I'll be whipped and taken to prison.” She sighed deeply as she stroked the stallion's great mane. “If it is true that my papa is dead, then the baroness is now my sole guardian. I have no hopes of escaping from her evil grasp unless I marry.”
Standing up, Ella brushed the grass and leaves from Moonlight's massive shoulders. “How am I to marry, and who would I marry?” she asked her faithful companion. “I'm afraid I'll be Lady Ghislain's servant until the day I die.”
Sadly, Ella climbed upon Moonlight’s back and rode off into the night. Both horse and rider knew the way back to the chateau even though it was a moonless night. As Ella rode down the rutted dirt road, she glanced across the fields and the village and then gazed, awestruck, at the king’s palace. Its brilliance lit up the sky with its blazing display of a thousand lanterns.
A strange and wonderful idea filled her mind and she began to smile. “I've got an idea, Moonlight,” she whispered. “I’ll marry the prince and move into the castle with him!”
Moonlight neighed and nodded his great head in agreement.
“You like that idea, Moonlight?” she asked. “Well, no doubt it would please the Lady Ghislain. At last she would be rich enough for her tastes and those of her two horrid daughters. I’d finally be free of them and they of me.”
Ella rode along, humming a merry tune to herself. At length she commented, “We certainly rode a long ways, didn’t we? Look, we're at the crossroads leading to our chateau or to the palace.”
She pulled in the reins and gazed at the two roads in front of them. “We have a choice to make, my friend,” she commented. “We may go to the right which leads to my prince and freedom, or we may go to the left which leads to my evil step-mother and slavery. I wonder which way I should go?”
Moonlight neighed loudly and jerked his head towards the castle.
“Ah, dear Moonlight, you think the choice is an easy one, but it is not. Marriage to the prince and living in a castle could make me as miserable as sleeping among the ashes and working as a servant in my step-mother's chateau.”
Moonlight shook his head, and stepped towards the castle.
Ella pulled at the reins to stop him.
“You think that marrying a prince will solve all of my problems? No, it surely will not. What if he is spoiled and mean tempered? Or what if he is a dullard and boring? Worse yet, he could be demanding and refuse to let me ride you whenever I chose! Right now, it's true, I must toil and slave for my step-mother, but when she and my step-sisters snore in their beds after the noontime meal, I am free to ride you like the wind.” She paused and patted his great head. “Moonlight, I dare say that I'm better off serving as a scullery maid than married to a spoiled, dull prince.”
Moonlight shook his head furiously.
“Oh, you don’t agree?” Ella asked. “Perhaps you personally know the prince and are aware of his temperament?”
Moonlight nodded his head, which made Ella laugh out loud. “Well, maybe you do, Your Royal Highness, but I do not.”
Moonlight whinnied and stepped towards the castle.
Ella paused as she reined him in. “Let me consider this for a moment, Moonlight. Perhaps if I could see the prince up close just once, I could tell for myself if he’s a spoiled, arrogant, dull fellow, or if he's someone I might like to marry one day.”
Moonlight nodded again, and Ella smiled to herself. “Then I must take matters into my own hands, dear friend. I haven’t a father or mother to see that I am properly wed, so, if I am to marry the prince, I must first find out if he is to my liking.”
Moonlight neighed agreeably.
“I'm glad you approve! Here's what we'll do: tomorrow, when our work is done, and the lady-wenches are snoring in their beds, we’ll go to the palace, you and I. We’ll catch a glimpse of this Prince Leandre and see if he is worth our time and efforts.”
Moonlight nodded his head again and neighed heartily.
“Let's go home, Moonlight,” Ella said as she loosed the reins and led him down the path to the left.
Once they arrived at the chateau, Ella led Moonlight to the livery stable and brushed his dusty coat. She fed him some sweet hay and bade him good night. Silently, she hurried across the courtyard to the doors of the scullery for she knew all of the doors of the chateau would be locked.
Reaching beneath a mossy stone, Ella found a key and opened the scullery doors. She tiptoed across the gleaming floors and towards her bedroom. Not surprised, she found the door bolted shut. When the baroness thought her husband might be returning home, she allowed Ella to sleep there, otherwise, she slept in the tower.
Ella sighed and headed for the rickety steps leading to the tower. Slowly, she pulled herself up each step of the winding staircase until she reached the top and faced an old wooden door. “This will be my room only until I marry the prince,” she muttered as she pushed against the heavy door. Glancing into the darkness, she quickly noticed that the only comfort in the tiny room -- the little wooden cot – had been replaced by an old straw mat and tattered quilt.
Slumping down on the mat next to the cold fireplace, Ella groaned aloud, “Ah, Prince Leandre, for my sake you had better be witty, charming and love riding as much as I do, or I will remain a sorry wench indeed.” With that, she poked at the gray coals on the grate, hoping to coax some warmth out of them. After a few minutes she tired of the task and pulled the quilt up to her chin and tried to sleep.
The old rooster crowed and Ella awoke. It took a moment or two to remember the sad news of yesterday. She pulled on her worn clogs, brushed through her long, golden curls, and headed outside to feed the chickens and pigs. As Ella filled the watering trough for the horses, her step-mother bustled out of the house and charged towards her.
“Where were you, you thankless heathen?!” she screamed. “I told you never to ride that horse away from my property!”
“Your property?” Ella asked. “I believe it is still in my father’s name.”
“Not anymore,” her step-mother snapped. “Yesterday I changed everything over to my name now that your father is dead.”
“You don’t know that!” Ella cried. “He might come back! He might, you know!”
“Well, it’s too late now. His property is now my property and you are my property as well. As you have noticed, your old room is bolted shut. Your belongings have been divided amongst my two daughters and the tower room is your new home. You will be my servant as long as you live.”
“Or until I marry,” Ella countered.
“Likely prospect of that,” her step-mother sneered. “Look at you, a coarse scullery maid. Whoever would want to marry you?”
“Perhaps the prince,” Ella calmly replied.
Her two step-sisters, Francoise and Yvette, joined the conversation with rude laughs.
“The prince?” Yvette, the younger one snickered. “Ella marry the prince?”
“You mean Cinder-Ella,” Francoise, the older one scoffed. “Cinderella, the girl who sits among the cinders and ashes with black soot on her ugly face.”
Ella reached for her hanky and wiped the side of her face. Black soot soiled the cloth.
“Cinderella, Cinderella!” Yvette clapped her hands in great amusement. “Oh, the name is perfect for you, Ella! And just imagine if you were to marry the prince! Why, it would be just like a fairy tale!” Yvette laughed heartily at her own clever remark.
“Stop this nonsensical talk at once!” the step-mother chided the girls. “If anyone is to marry the prince, it will be one of you two girls – and not Ella!” She paused, her eyes narrowing with hatred as she glared at Ella. “I mean, Cinderella. Yes, yes, the name suits you well.”
She turned on her heels, and clapped her hands. “Come, my darlings, you don’t want to be out in the sun too long. It will spoil your lovely complexions.” She then turned to Ella and said, “Cinderella, the tapestries in the drawing room need to be aired. Do it immediately.”
“But I have so many chores to do already, Step-mother,” Ella explained.
“Complaining will only get you more chores, Cinderella. After the tapestries are aired, scour the halls, the dining room floor, and the porch.”
“But I just . . .” Ella started to say and then stopped. “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied and placed the old bucket in her hands next to the well.
The long, tedious day wore on. When the tapestries were aired and the scouring done in the dining room and hall, Ella listened carefully for the sound she’d been waiting all day to hear: loud snoring coming from the upper bedrooms. She ran out to the carriage house, for there, hidden beneath several horse blankets, lay her riding suit. With a great sigh of relief at finding it safe, she gathered the pieces into her arms. Ella whispered a silent prayer of thanks that she’d always kept the outfit in the carriage house, otherwise Francoise and Yvette would be in possession of it now.
Hurrying back into the chateau, Ella drew a quick bath and prepared herself for the trip to find the king’s son. Donning her lovely silk blouse, gray trousers, and black leather boots, she gazed at herself in the looking glass. She smiled as she pulled back her long golden curls into a low ponytail and secured it with a thin leather strip. She then hurried to the livery stable and found Moonlight. The sleek stallion nickered happily and rushed to the door of his stall.
As she stroked his velvet nose, she said, “We must be very quiet, my friend. We don't want to awaken the two snoring princesses and their dreadful mother.”
Moonlight nodded his head as if he understood and seemed to grin. Ella stepped into his stall then slid a woolen blanket and a polished saddle onto his back. After securing the straps, she slipped a bridle over his head and quietly led him out of the stable. The courtyard was quiet and empty, so with the grace of a skilled rider she lifted herself into the saddle. They noiselessly padded their way out of the courtyard, but once they were on the country road, Moonlight neighed happily and broke into a brisk gallop.
“Oh, Moonlight, I've been permanently moved out of my room and into the tower,” Ella explained as they journeyed along. “And the baroness has seen fit to remove my cot!” she cried. “I don't know how much longer I can stand to stay in this chateau under such terrible conditions.”
Moonlight turned his ears to listen to his mistress’s sad story.
“But there is always hope,” she spoke firmly. “For example, today we may be fortunate enough to see his Royal Highness.” Ella paused and then added, “Do you think we really will, Moonlight?”
Moonlight nodded his proud head as if to answer, “Of course, we will m’lady!”
Ella laughed gaily. “Well, I hope when we find him, that he is at least tolerable in his manners and somewhat nice looking. A prince is a prince, and I should be grateful to marry one, but it would be nice if we were comfortable with one another.”
She led him off the small dirt road heading away from the chateau and onto the main road. She slowed him to a trot as they began to pass peasants pulling handcarts behind them as they headed both to and from the market place. Some fortunate ones had sold their wares and headed towards home; others headed towards individual hovels, hoping to sell their wares to the housewives who lived there. A few townspeople owned horses and carriages, but most walked the dusty roads wearing heavy, old boots.
Suddenly, thundering horse hooves sounded behind them. Horses neighed anxiously and all of the townsfolk scurried to the sides of the road. Moonlight snorted angrily and darted to the side of the road just as four riders thundered by.
“Whoa, there!” Ella shouted as they passed. “This road is made for all travelers! You shouldn’t take it all for yourselves! It’s ill-mannered!”
The peasants glanced cautiously over at Ella and Moonlight and then down the road at the four riders who'd left a cloud of dust behind them. One of the four riders turned around and trotted towards Ella and Moonlight. Instantly, the peasants scattered, hurriedly leaving the road, disappearing down small side roads, into shady lanes leading to small hovels, or down the road the opposite direction.
The lone rider led his horse close to Ella. “What is your problem, boy?” he asked curtly.
“Do I look like a boy?” Ella asked irritably, and then, as she glanced down at her riding attire and felt her long pony tail over her shoulder, she added, “Don’t answer that.”
The man threw back his head and laughed heartily. “You’re a girl! Well, I must say that I’ve never seen a girl, or a young woman, dressed in trousers before!”
“Have you ever ridden a horse wearing a dress?” Ella demanded. “Well, have you?”
“Certainly not!” the man replied.
“Well, I have, and unless you have experienced how uncomfortable it is, I suggest that you not be so critical,” Ella replied with a firm nod of her head.
“Quite so,” the man replied with a courteous bow. “I do apologize, m’lady. It was ill mannered of me to question your manner of dress, and to call you a boy. I can plainly see that you are not, now that I examine you more closely.”
Ella blushed. “You have seen me quite closely enough, sir,” she replied, but she smiled as she said it.
“Where are you off to this bright afternoon, m’lady?” he asked.
Ella carefully eyed him. “I don’t know you at all, sir, and, aside from nearly running us over with your horse, you do seem like a man of honor and integrity.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a bow. “That I am.”
“We, that is, my noble steed and I, are off to see the prince,” Ella replied with an air of confidence.
The man smiled and replied, “That should give the prince great pleasure, I am sure.” He paused, “And why are you seeking audience with the prince?”
Ella laughed brightly, “Oh, I’m not seeking audience with him. I just want to see him and possibly listen to him speak.” She paused then added, “I want to see if he is handsome or plain, intelligent and quick witted, or a braggart and a dullard, and, most importantly, if his manners please me. You see, it is my intention to marry the prince one day, that is, if I find him acceptable.”
The man looked at her with great surprise, and asked, “Are you a princess?”
“My father thought so, and always treated me as one.” She smiled, “Why? Is that important?”
Shrugging, the man replied, “No, not really. It’s just that princes usually do marry princesses, that’s all.”
Ella shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose they usually do, but there are exceptions to every rule you know.”
The man smiled at her again. “Like ladies wearing trousers instead of dresses when they go riding about the countryside?”
“Precisely,” Ella replied, then laughed brightly.
The man laughed also, then asked, “Why is it so important that you marry a prince? Why couldn’t you just as easily marry a fellow like me?”
“Well, I could,” Ella replied, “but it would be far easier if you were a prince.”
“Ah,” the man replied, a puzzled look on his face. “Any special reason?”
“My step-mother,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I don’t think she’ll give permission for me to marry anyone, but if a prince were to ask my hand in marriage, then maybe his wealth and power might convince her to let me go.”
“Are you her servant?” he asked.
Ella paused before answering, “Let's just say that I was born the daughter of a baron and baroness, but things have gone badly for my parents. Their untimely demise has left me in quite a predicament.”
“I see,” the man nodded. “And now you're under the care of your step-mother exclusively? Perhaps if I spoke to her . . .”
Just then the other three riders galloped up to the man.
“Is anything amiss, Your Highness?” one of them asked.
“No,” the man curtly replied as his face flushed with anger. “Leave us!” he commanded. Dutifully, the men rode off.
“Oh, I am so embarrassed,” Ella stammered, as she turned Moonlight to the side. “I had no idea you were the prince!”
The prince smiled. “Well, m’lady, now that you know who I am, I must ask, do I pass your stringent test as a potential husband for you?”
Ella nodded, as her cheeks turned a light pink again. “Yes, certainly, Prince Leandre. You are polite, handsome, and pleasing to me in every way.”
“Excellent,” he replied with a grin. “Now, will you please tell me your name?”
“I-I can’t. If my step-mother finds out that I’ve spoken to you. . . No, Your Highness, I must go!” With that she pulled at the reins of Moonlight, and thundered down the road in a cloud of dust.
“Wait!” he called after her, and started to follow, but then he stopped. He sat tall in his saddle and watched as the dust settled and she rode away from him. “Whoever you are, I’ll find you. My kingdom is not so large that I cannot find a beautiful young woman who dares to wear trousers in midday as she goes riding about.”
With a cluck of his tongue, he turned his great steed around and followed his companions to the castle.
Ella returned, panting and out of breath, but in time to pull her old dress and apron over her riding trousers and blouse and return Moonlight to the pasture. Quickly, she grabbed the hoe from the barn and busied herself weeding the garden. It was just in time, too, for within the minute, her step-mother and step-sisters awakened from their naps and sauntered out of the house. Her step-mother walked over to her and scrutinized her weeding. Finding no fault with it, she tugged at her pony tail and pulled out the leather strap.
“Why do you wear your hair in such a boyish manner?” she asked irritably.
“It is such a hot day,” Ella replied, her heart pounding. “Pulling it back keeps it out of my eyes and helps my neck to stay cooler.”
“Humph,” the step-mother replied as she eyed the garden again. “Make sure you pick the best vegetables for dinner.” She paused then added, “That pumpkin is almost large enough to make some pies. I suggest you pick it in a few days.” She then turned on her heels and walked back into the house.
“Humph, indeed,” remarked Francoise. “By the way, you look especially ugly today, Cinderella.” She then followed her mother into the house.
“And you look really stupid wearing your nice riding boots in the garden,” Yvette snapped with a nod of her head.
Ella looked down at her riding boots and realized she hadn’t taken them off. “They keep the dirt out of my toes when I’m weeding, Yvette,” she answered coolly.
“Humph,” Yvette remarked as she pointed her nose in the air, then she followed her sister and mother into the house.
“Whew, that was close,” Ella remarked as she hurried over to the carriage house and changed her clothes. She replaced her riding boots with her old work clogs and hid her nice riding outfit and boots beneath an old horse blanket.
Ella picked the vegetables from the garden and brought them into the scullery for the cook to prepare for dinner.
As she walked past the drawing room where her step-mother and step-sisters sat with their embroidery, Yvette remarked, “Where are your riding boots, Cinderella?”
The step-mother eyed Yvette and then Cinderella curiously.
“I don’t wear riding boots in the house, Yvette,” Ella remarked as casually as she could muster. Quickly, she hurried up the stairs to her tower room.
The step-mother rose from her chair and followed Cinderella for a few steps, then she paused, and returned to her chair. “What was that all about, Yvette?” she asked.
Yvette shrugged as she struggled with her embroidery piece. “Ella was wearing her riding boots while she weeded the garden. I just wondered why she didn’t still have them on.”
“And I wonder why she had them on in the first place,” the step-mother mused.
“To keep the dirt out of her toes,” Yvette replied. “She told me so herself.”
“Hm-m-m,” the step-mother said as she rose to her feet. “Cinderella obviously has had a long day. I’m sure she’s much too tired for supper. I’ll think I’ll go tuck her in.”
“You mean lock her in, Mama?” Francoise sneered.
“Perhaps,” the step-mother replied as she ascended the stairs.
Prince Leandre handed the reins of his horse to one of his servants and raced up the stairs of the castle two steps at a time.
“Father!” he called out as he entered the great hall.
“In here, son,” a deep voice bellowed. “In the library.”
Leandre ran into the room. His father, the king, stood at a broad table, examining a detailed map of the kingdom with his councilors at his side.
“Father,” Leandre interrupted, “for years now you have been encouraging me to get married--”
“Quite so,” the king replied. “And while looking over these cartographs of our kingdom and the surrounding kingdoms, I think I’ve found the solution to your dilemma – and mine as well. I believe that marrying the daughter of King Paulos would be an excellent idea.”
“Not so excellent,” Leandre interrupted. “Not now. I’ve found the girl that I want to marry.”
The king stood erect and adjusted the pair of spectacles on his face. “How so, son? I must say that this is quite a sudden turn of events.”
Leandre cleared his throat as he thought quickly. “Yes, it is. It’s quite delightful actually, and I thought it would be wonderful if you and Mother could meet the girl at a ball – held in our honor. It could be a surprise ball where we invite all of the fair maidens of the kingdom. Yes, that’s it. That’s what I want, Father. I want you to invite every maiden in the kingdom to the ball – and then I’ll announce which of the lovely maidens is to be my bride.”
The king stared long and hard at his son. At last he said, “What’s her name?”
Leandre cleared his throat, and said quietly, “I didn’t quite catch her name, Father, but she’s a lovely girl – and I’m desperately in love with her!”
“Humph,” the king replied as he returned to his cartographs. “King Paulos’ daughter has a name. It’s Sophrenia, and, coincidentally, that is the name of your future bride. Now, get out of your riding clothes and into your evening wear. You will be dining with your mother and I as we discuss your pending marriage -- to Princess Sophrenia.”
“No, Father.”
“You are refusing to dine with your mother and I?”
“No, Sire. I am refusing to marry Princess Sophrenia. I have already met the girl who is perfect for me in every way. She is the only one I will consider marrying.”
“I’ve given you the opportunity to marry the girl of your choice for five years now, Leandre. Why, now, have you suddenly discovered that you are in love? Who is this girl?”
“I met her today, Father, and she is. . .” He cleared his throat, “Father, please, I beg you. Give a ball. Invite every girl in the kingdom to attend. She will be there, I know it. Once you meet her, Father, you will agree with me that she is perfect. I won’t be happy with anyone else but her.”
The king shook his head. “Go take a cold bath, Leandre, and keep your head under the water long enough to clear your thinking – then come dine with your mother and I.”
“I only want this girl, Father.”
“Go, Leandre. We’ll see you at dinner.”
“Step-mother, let me out of here!” Ella called out angrily. “You have no cause to keep me locked in my room!”
“I have every cause, Cinderella. Where were you today while we napped? Yvette saw you in your riding boots. Where did you go? I swear I’ll sell that cursed horse of yours!”
“No!” Ella cried.
“Where were you, Cinderella?!”
“I just went for a ride. It gets so stuffy in this old place; I just needed to get out and ride for awhile.”
“Where did you go?!”
“Out.”
“Fine, well, you can stay in for awhile until you see fit to answer my questions. Meanwhile, I’ll call the butcher to come pick up some horse meat.”
“Step-mother, no!” Ella cried.
“Where were you!” her step-mother demanded.
“Why do you care? Why does it matter to you? I’m your slave; doesn’t that make you happy?!”
“No. It would make me happier if you were dead, like your father – and I can see to it that that happens, just as I did to your father.”
Ella fell silent as the tears trickled down her face. Until this moment she had hoped that her father was alive and would somehow return to her. The horrible thought that her evil step-mother had something to do with his death made her cringe.
“Cinderella!” her step-mother shouted again through the locked door. “Answer me! Where did you go today?”
Ella turned away from the door and stared out the window at Prince Leandre’s castle, a world away. The gray stone turrets of the castle disappeared behind dark clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Ella slumped down on the straw mat and cried as if her poor heart would break. “Papa, Mama, please come get me,” she sobbed.
“So who, exactly, is this girl?” the Queen asked Leandre as they dined together in the great hall. She held the fork poised in her delicate hand, midway between the dinner plate and her mouth.
“She is a beautiful girl, and she is my match,” Leandre answered.
“And her name is?” his mother asked patiently.
Leandre pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly, then hurriedly said, “but I will find out if you and Father will hold the ball as I’ve requested. She’ll be there – then you can meet her. I know she’ll come.”
The king shook his head, frowning. “I don’t like the sounds of this mystery girl, Leandre. How do you know that she’s not from an enemy country, and has come to bewitch you and bring in enemy troops in a Trojan horse?”
“Father, be realistic. Helen of Troy was a story, a fairy tale. This is real. She is real, and she’s stolen my heart.”
The old king pushed his chair away from the table. “A stolen heart, eh? That’s a hard thing to reckon with.” He looked deeply into the eyes of his son, then at his wife. Quietly, he said, “Your mother stole my heart, too, the first time I saw her.” He paused briefly then added, “I’ll give you your ball, son – and the chance to meet this girl again. However, if she doesn’t appear, then you must look at reality – and entertain the prospect of marrying Princess Sophrenia. Is this an acceptable proposition?”
“Yes, Father!” Leandre cried out, jumping to his feet to embrace both his father and his mother. “You’ll love her! And I bet she’ll even wear a dress to the ball instead of riding trousers!”
“What?!” the king and queen cried out in unison.
“I’m only joking, because I’m so happy,” Leandre answered. “Whoever heard of a lady wearing men’s trousers? I mean, really. . . .” He hastily wolfed down his supper, and then jumped up from the table to jot down some ideas for the invitations.
Ella awoke to the feel of someone shaking her harshly on the shoulder. “Cinderella! Cinderella, wake up!” her step-mother shouted. “Get up! You’re needed downstairs!”
Ella could not discern if the words were real or if she was dreaming. She had been locked in the tower for two days without anything to eat or drink. Slowly, she raised herself up on one elbow on the straw mat.
“Why do you want me to come down now?” she asked weakly, trying to focus her eyes. “Have the other servants starved to death and you need someone to milk the cow?”
“Don’t be impertinent,” her step-mother snapped. “You suddenly have become valuable to us. We need you to crochet a lace collar for Francoise’s silk dress, and Yvette needs an embroidered sash for her satin frock.”
“I see,” said Ella weakly. “Tell me, Step-mother, am I expected to save the day half-starved, or will I be allowed to eat something before I do your bidding?”
“Gruel is on the table downstairs – and some water. Eat it quickly then set to work! The king is giving a ball tonight at the palace, and your step-sisters must look stunning.”
“A ball?” Ella asked with surprise as she sat up on the straw mat. “What are you talking about, Step-mother?”
“Prince Leandre is choosing a bride tonight from amongst the maidens in his kingdom. The talk around town is that he’s met a mysterious princess whose name he does not know. He claims he will know her tonight at the ball and she shall be his bride. I want Francoise or Yvette to be that bride!” She took her hands from off her hips and pulled Ella from the mat. “Get downstairs, you lazy girl! I want the lace collar and embroidery work done before the carriage arrives at dusk!”
Ella felt dizzy and weak as she clung to the railing and slowly descended the stairs. What did Step-mother say? she asked herself. Prince Leandre is choosing a bride? Who has he met – a mystery princess?
As Ella slowly sipped at the hot gruel, she vaguely remembered meeting the prince. It was as though it had been a strange, but wonderful dream.
“Hurry up, Cinderella!” Francoise shouted in her face. “I need that lace collar for my dress!” She waved the engraved invitation in her face. “See here? The ball is at seven this evening!”
Ella stared at the invitation, struggling to make out the words on the page. “Ev--every maid-en is to-o-o a-a-ttend the-e-e- b-all,” she read slowly, too weak and famished to make much sense of the words. “What does this mean, Francoise?” she asked weakly.
“It means we get to go meet the prince, Cinderella!” she shouted.
“All of us?” Ella asked.
“All of us except you,” Yvette added. “Servants aren’t allowed.”
Ella tipped the bowl to her mouth and finished the gruel. Her mind was clearing now that she had eaten. Yes, that was it. Leandre was holding the ball to find her, and somehow, somehow, she had to get there!
Drawing a slow breath, she walked over to her sewing basket and pulled out a skein of creamy white silk thread. “How large do you want the collar, Francoise?” she asked.
Francoise drew closer with a happy, excited expression. She hadn’t actually expected Ella to make the collar. “I want it to my shoulders, and delicate, with small flowerets,” she eagerly explained.
“All right,” Ella replied, then added slyly, “will you please give water to Moonlight for me while I work on your collar?”
Francoise drew a quick breath, and then hurried over to whisper something to her mother.
“Moonlight is still here, isn’t he?” Ella asked with a catch in her voice.
“Mother,” Yvette whimpered, “Cinderella won’t make our things if you sell Moonlight!”
“Yes, she will!” the evil step-mother shouted, “or I’ll beat her to death!”
Francoise looked anxiously at her mother. “If she’s dead, she can’t crochet or embroider for us.”
“And I won’t crochet or embroider a stitch until I see Moonlight outside our door,” Ella said firmly, putting the thread and crochet needle back into her sewing basket.
“Mother!” Francoise and Yvette pleaded together.
“Go get Moonlight!” the step-mother barked to her daughters. “You girls must look breathtaking tonight!” She paused and then snapped, “Ella, start crocheting!”
Ella stood and walked out to the wide porch, taking her sewing basket with her. She sat down on the steps and waited while Francoise and Yvette climbed over the fence and called for Moonlight. The girls whooped and hollered and ran after Moonlight. The poor horse shied away from the girls and ran across the pasture.
“Mother!” Francoise wailed from the field. “Tell Cinderella to call her wretched horse!”
“Go!” the step-mother commanded Ella.
Ella walked across the courtyard to the pasture fence and whistled gently. The stallion pricked up his ears and galloped towards her at once.
“Oh, Moonlight, what a terrible mess I’m in,” Ella crooned to her dear horse as she patted his arched neck. Moonlight sighed in contentment and nuzzled against her.
“Cinderella!” her step-mother yelled. “You can see your horse, now get back to the porch and start sewing!”
“I need a miracle,” she whispered to Moonlight, as she slowly turned away from him and walked back to the porch.
As Ella’s nimble fingers crocheted the delicate collar, her mind whirled, searching for ideas. She needed a plan as to how to get to the ball – and what to wear once she got there. The only decent thing she owned was her riding outfit, and that was not a fitting thing to wear to a ball. What shall I do? she wondered. Row after row of the lace collar emerged from her nimble fingers, but still no plan developed in her mind.
“Perhaps Step-mother will let me wear one of my old dresses and go with my step-sisters," Ella thought in vain, but she knew that her evil step-mother had wished her dead not two days ago. Letting her go to the ball was an impossible dream.
Ella’s fingers flew like lightning as she quickly completed the lace collar. Francoise was delighted beyond words and quickly tried it on with her silk gown.
“My turn! My turn!” shouted Yvette. “Embroider some colorful birds on my sash!” As Ella found the colorful bits of floss for the embroidery, Yvette sat anxiously at her feet.
“You’re very clever, Ella,” Yvette said with admiration.
“What did you call me?” Ella whispered.
“Ella,” Yvette whispered. “After all, it is your given name, and it’s not very kind of us to call you Cinderella. Thank you for doing this for me.”
Ella smiled. “You’re welcome, Yvette.” She pulled out some brightly colored floss and held it out to Yvette. “What color do you want your birds? You choose.”