Cinderella? You think you know Cinderella? Let me guess, you know that silly story about the pretty girl who is abused by her family, helped by her fairy godmother and marries the prince. The whole happily ever after thing, right? Sorry, hon, you're wrong. Let me tell you the real story of Cinderella, the one your parents never wanted you to know.
Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a rich widow, her two daughters, and one stepdaughter. This widow was strict with the girls, believing firmly in hard work and self alliance. When her husband died, leaving her in charge of the household, the first thing the widow did was fire the staff and teach all three girls how to work.
Not your mama's story, right? Cinderella worked along side her stepsisters, but she was a dreamer and a scheamer. While the other two girls were hard at work, Cindy was staring off into space and dreaming of a better life. She got yelled at alot for that.
"She's just so mean," Cindy complained to the cowhand from the next estate over. "I have to do everything. She makes me clean the house while her daughters get to sleep and play dress up."
"Aw, Cindy, I'm sure things will get better," muttered the cowhand. He wanted to pat her on the shoulder, but he was covered in mud. True to the stories that were going around, Cindy was beautiful. Long blond hair, fair skin and a pleasing form. Her stepsisters were far from ugly, but they could not compete with the radiance of Cinderella.
"Today, she had me washing the floors. As soon as I was done, those awful daughters of hers came in, tracking mud all over the place," Cindy said and burst into tears. "I just know that if father were alive, he would put a stop to this."
The cowhand nodded. He was, as far as he knew, Cindy's only friend. He allowed her to complain since she wasn't really a servant. Servants should never complain about their lot in life, or they could find themselves on the street with no references. Cindy, however, was the daughter of a rich baron and shouldn't be made to work. Her delicut little hands were red and blistered, her soft skin scratched. Her pretty gowns gone and replaced with dirty rags.
"Oh I have to go," Cindy sniffed. "My stepmother is expecting me."
She got up and left, wiping away her tears. On the road back home, she came across a Royal Messenger, trying to urge his horse forward.
"Good day, sir," Cindy called out. "Do you need assistance?"
"Ah, yes. My horse has suddenly gone shy. I'm on my way to the house beyond the hill to deliver a message from the king to all the estates in the land. Would you happen to know if the Lord of that house is home? I'd hate to have to make the trip for an abandoned home."
Cindy looked to where he was pointing. It was her home.
"Oh, that's where I live. The Master of the home died, but his wife is still there," Cindy said. She did not look like the daughter of a baron, so she didn't bother letting the man know who she was.
He smiled. "Good, maybe you can carry this letter for me? It would be so helpful."
He held out a lovely white envelope sealed with the royal crest. Daintily, Cindy took the letter and headed back home. She studied the letter as she went. She wanted to know what it said, but she'd have to break the crest to read it. Her stepmother would know if she did that. But, if she didn't look at it, would her stepmother tell her what it said?
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