"What medieval marauder decided women should be attached before their twentieth year, pray tell?" Essie demanded.

"Hah, Sister dear, we should count ourselves blessed. We could have been sold off at the age of three and ten."

Cinderella considered that little tidbit. She should confide in the two of them, and now seemed as good a time as any. Summoning up her courage, she said, "There is some-"

The door bounded against the back of the chair, startling the three of them.

"Quick, Cinderella! Under the bed," Pricilla hissed.

"Non. My dress, I cannot go under the bed," Cinderella gasped, horrified. "The window?"

"No time, Cinde, just do it," Essie snapped. "Vite!"

Cinderella dropped to her knees and scooted. Wait, 'twas the Royal Palace, dirt was not allowed. Funny how they'd been at the palace for such a short time and already she'd grown accustomed to such luxury. Already distanced from her old life just weeks past. The door thrashed against the chair repeatedly. She flinched.

"Open this door." Stepmama shrilled.

"One minute, Maman," Pricilla called out. "Essie, help me drag this chair away. Vite!" Among their rustling skirts, Cinderella could hear the two grunting with their efforts. The shadow of the chair edged closer to the bed. More rustling then light footsteps dashing across the floor.

The chamber door slammed against the wall.

"What is the meaning of this!" Stepmama's fury filled the chamber.

The door to the armoire creaked open. That was Essie's part-Cinderella held her breath.

Pricilla skirts gave away her location near the door, a dramatic gasp sounded from her. Mayhap the three of them should consider an affixation to an acting troupe once they were banished from the castle grounds.

"Maman! What are you doing here? You will have us caught," Pricilla whispered loudly. Light seeped beneath the bed as she moved. The door closed softly.

"What the devil are the two of you up to?" Stepmama demanded.

"Maman, your language! Keep your voice down." Cinderella grinned at Essie's superb inflection of conspiracy.

"Where is Cinderella, I…I need her to press my…my gloves." Stepmama's tone was accusatory but, she was buying into their dramatics and lowered her voice. Now, if they could keep her from peering beneath the bed.

"She is in the gardens-we believe. She is enamored by those silly statues."

Cinderella frowned. Silly?

"This is what comes from too much unhealthy exposure to books, my lovelies. Mind what I tell you. Intelligence in a woman is an undesirable trait." Heavy steps shuffled by.

"Oui, Maman. I was just admiring her shoes," Essie said. "Look. Why can I not have shoes like these…" she wailed. "Why should she have so many?"




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