The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 12/133

News of Prince Charming's outrageous plan reached the cottage within days. Hours possibly, and Cinderella was outraged. The competency of communication through word of mouth was quite amazing when one evaluated its efficiency to any minute degree.

The range of emotions roaring through her started with that of stunned horror, morphing quickly to morbid, yet hidden, amusement as Stepmama and Cinderella's stepsisters danced 'round their small abode with glee. The likely prospect that her glass slipper could ever fit one of her evil stepsisters was…laughable. Well, it was vile enough to make one want to cast up her accounts, and that somehow warred with an effort to hide an unexpected yet hysterical giggle.

"Do you think he shall be here soon?" Pricilla spouted, turning cool gray eyes on Stepmama. Her blond, almost white hair, bounced bobbing curls. Ever the ultimate image of Stepmama, were it not for Stepmama's rotund figure.

Stepmama considered Pricilla with a glance of calculated amusement. Cinderella fought to keep the shiver of trepidation from snaking up her spine. What tactic was Stepmama now hatching in that malevolent mind of hers? With bated breath, Cinderella snatched up a cloth and made a show of dusting the buffet, waiting for some brilliant insight to surge forth.

She forced herself to breathe, calming herself with the thought she would have her chance with Prince. She just had to. He was asking for all the maidens to try the slipper, non? They could not stop her. They could not, she vowed, pressing her lips together.

"We shall be prepared," Stepmama announced. "Both of you, follow Cinderella about this house. Make certain that she has swept, scrubbed, cleaned, polished, waxed, and sanitized each and every viable surface." Her brittle, high pitched voice grated. "Leave no corner untouched."

And so they did.

'Twas another two days before the cottage was readied and spotless. Unfortunately, it left her sisters floundering in restlessness. Something that bespoke trouble for Cinderella. On normal days they were annoying and underfoot. Bored, however, made them dangerous.

Cinderella fought for every ounce of control and sanity as she sat in her little corner. Mending stockings from a nearby basket, she listened in horrific silence as Esmeralda and Pricilla argued on whose foot was the most exquisite. On whom Prince would think the prettiest. On whom should be first to try the blasted slipper. On whom it would actually fit. Only once, did Cinderella's lips tip in a secret smile, eyes averted.

"What are you snickering about, Cinderella?" Pricilla sneered. "That the shoe will fit you?" At which point both sisters cackled hysterically.

Ha! such absurdity. Let them. Cinderella would have the last laugh. "It could, you know." The words slipped out.