Essie's pent up vexation, however, had met its end. "What is that supposed to mean?" she shrieked, "We have been trying these dresses a week past and you vow to say something, now ?"
To Pricilla's credit, she did appear chagrined. Cinderella rushed over and grasped Essie's hand, darted Pricilla her harshest glare. Not that it could help Essie. The white did make her appear ashen and bloodless, but mayhap it had more to do with wrought nerves.
Pricilla ignored Essie's angry outburst and Cinderella's meanest stare. Ha, 'twas the biggest jest around, besides. "I cannot be sure; but it's just occurred to me, rationally speaking of course."
"Of course," Essie retorted.
Pricilla paid her no mind. "The white would look much better on Cinde with her dark coloring. And the green would work fabulously on you-match your eyes to perfection."
Essie cast a critical gaze over Cinderella, Cinderella cringed. Essie's nerves were not the only ones wrought. If the floor could swallow Cinderella up, she would be most grateful. She sent up a silent prayer to Fairy Godmother. As if anything could unbreak her magic stick. It was hopeless.
"I do so love that color," Essie professed. "Mayhap I would not be so nervous if I did not feel so much like the sacrificial lamb on its way to the slaughter?"
An apt analogy, Cinderella professed inwardly.
Oui, they were right. But Cinderella-lips pressed tightly together-refused to comment, opting for another silent prayer of an open floor. She was small. All she needed was a minute crack to swallow her whole. She would never complain. The white dress was stunning and it did make Esmeralda's pale skin look chalky. If Essie donned that green dress she had no doubt Prince would take one look at her and fall heedlessly in love.
Cinderella deserved this. Did she not steal a kiss from her sister's betrothed without his knowing? Would this not serve as restitution for all time?
She gazed longingly at the ivory dress. It was hers. She wanted to slide it over her head one last time before being hauled away as the fraud she was. Fear had her trembling to the point of swooning.
Oh, what was she so afraid of? Stepmama was all but dead, she chided herself. Pricilla had confessed to her murder, though it was strange that the horns had not yet sounded. Mayhap she was not the only one thrilled about such a scenario and the poor wretched soul who happened upon her cold dead body had decided to keep mum.
Panic surged through Cinderella. Perhaps it was time. Non. It was past time. They deserved to know the truth, come what may. The opportunity had come to confess. She was the mysterious princess. Oh, blast it. Once she donned that white dress there would be no need to tell them anything. Everyone in the chamber would know the second it floated over her head, because she should be wearing it.