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Late that night, I was suddenly awakened by a pair of hands upon my shoulders. Amelie was leaning over my bed, a pale shape in her white nightgown. Anastasia was kneeling at the head of the bed.

“Come into the sewing room,” she said. “There is something you should see. But be quiet. We do not want to wake Maman.”

I tossed back my covers and got out of bed, following my stepsisters on tiptoe across the hall. In the light of the waning moon, just inside the sewing-room door, two dress forms stood, side by side. One was wearing a dress of pale blue, the other, a pink as soft as inside of a seashell.

“Look,” Amelie said. “There we are.”

“Oh, but they are perfect,” I exclaimed softly. “Perfect in every detail.” On silent feet, I moved forward, then knelt to lift the hem of Amelies dress. “Your hem is finished, Amelie.”

She nodded. “And Anastasia’s buttons. And look . . .” She gestured to the circlet of flowers she had been working on just that afternoon. Woven in among the blossoms were ropes of tiny seashells. Shell buckles adorned her shoes. In the moonlight, the pearls on Anastasia’s dress made the dress glimmer like cool spring rain.

“You are going to be so beautiful,” I said, as I stood up. “Both of you.”

“Not as beautiful as you will be,” Anastasia replied. “Come and see.”

“No, wait,” Amelie whispered. “Better yet, close
your eyes, Don’t worry,” she went on when I hesitated, “I won’t let Anastasia trip you.”

“Oh, stop,” Anastasia protested, but I caught the laughter in her quiet voice. “She’s right, though. Close your eyes, Cendrillon. Please.”

Pulling in a deep breath, I obeyed, and felt my stepsisters each clasp a hand. Slowly and carefully, they led me through what felt like the full length of the sewing room.

“Now,” Amelie whispered, as she gave my hand a squeeze, “Open your eyes.”

I discovered I couldn’t quite manage both at once. Instead, I did it one at a time. First the left eye, and then the right. Before me, in a shaft of moonlight coming through the window in the farthest corner of the room, stood the third and final dress form. I blinked. I rubbed my eyes, then blinked again.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, my.”

The dress before me was the loveliest that I had ever seen, yard upon yard of ivory-colored satin shot through with threads of gold. The smooth, tight-fitting bodice was embroidered all over with raised gold flowers, their centers brilliants that caught the light. More brilliants danced across the full, billowing skirt.

“It’s the same color as the moonlight,” Anastasia breathed, “And see—for your hair . . .” She caught up a length of lace as fine as spiderweb, tossed it up and over my head. More brilliants flashed, even in the pale moonlight.

“You will be more beautiful than just the moon,” she said. “You will be the moon and the stars combined. We are going to have to resign ourselves to lives as ladies in waiting, Amelie. One look at Cendrillon, and the prince will fall in love at first sight”

“Look,” Amelie said. She knelt before the dress form, then rose. “Your slippers are made of glass”

My heart had begun to beat so hard and fast, I feared it would explode. At the sight of the slippers, I put my hands to my mouth.

“What the prince is going to do is die laughing when I fall flat on my face in those. I’m just a country girl, no matter who my mother was. I don’t belong in a palace. I can’t wear a dress like that.”

A dress so beautiful it made my throat ache, so exquisite it made me want to cry. I lifted the lace from my hair, laid it gently against the shoulder of the dress form.

“I’m afraid. I’m so afraid,” I whispered.

“It’s just for a few hours,” Anastasia said softly.

“Though remarkable things may happen in even that short amount of time. You surprised us. Perhaps it’s time to surprise yourself.”

“If I can keep from falling over when I curtsy to the prince,” I said, “that may be remarkable enough. Now let’s go back to bed. It won’t matter how beautiful our dresses are if we all have bags under our eyes.”

Carefully, Amelie returned my glass slippers to
their place. “I still don’t understand how all this got done in time,” she said, as she rose. “Is it magic, do you supposed?”

“The strongest kind there is, I think,” I said.

“And what is that?” Anastasia asked.

“Love.”

The day of the ball dawned clear and fine. We arose to eat a hearty breakfast, after which Old Mathilde herded us into the bath, one by one. Then she sent us to the sunniest room in the house to comb out our hair and let it dry. Niccolo and Raoul went out into the city to make the arrangements for the coach that would take us to the palace that night. They had been whispering and chuckling together ever since the day before. If Susanne had been with us, she’d have called them thick as thieves. It was clear that they were up to something.

Late in the afternoon, there came a sudden lull in our activities, like the calm before the storm. My stepsisters and I were in our room, sitting in a circle with our backs to one another, I brushed Anastasia’s hair, Anastasia Amelie’s, and Amelie mine.

“What happens if they can’t find a carriage?” Anastasia suddenly said, “We can’t go in the wagon and we can’t possibly walk. Those shoes are gorgeous, but they hurt my feet. Ouch, Cendrillon. You’re pulling my hair!”

“I’m not,” I replied, “Stop fussing, Anastasia, Raoul and Niccolo know what they’re about.”

As if summoned by our words, we heard a shout
from the street below. I heard my stepmother begin to laugh.

“Oh, it is absolutely perfect,” she cried. “I could not have done better if I’d chosen it myself”

Anastasia flew to the window, opening the casement so that she could lean out. A moment later, I heard her laugh too.

“Oh, do come look!” she cried.

Amelie and I crowded into the window so that we all three together gazed down into the street below. Raoul sat behind two fine new horses, hitched to a conveyance, the likes of which I had never seen before. It had tall, thin wheels with spokes of painted gold. The coachman’s seat was perched so high it was a wonder Raoul didn’t fall right off. But the carriage itself was the most astonishing sight of all. Great and round, with great round windows to match. Like the wheels, it was painted gold.

“How do you like it?” Raoul called up with a doff of his new hat. He looked like a fine gentleman in his recently acquired city clothes. He and Niccolo would drive us to the palace that night.

“Leave it to you,” Anastasia said, “to find the only carriage in all the city that looks exactly like a pumpkin.”

Anastasia, Amelie, and I dressed together, aided by Mathilde and Justine. Then Justine shooed my stepsisters across the hall to their mother, giving Old
Mathilde and me a moment alone. Carefully, Mathilde arranged the lace upon my hair, securing it in place with two jeweled clips studded with stones the same green color as my eyes.

“These belonged to your mother,” she said, as she slid them into place. “I have saved them for you until now.”

She turned me to face the mirror, and it seemed to me that a stranger gazed back. I did not know this girl in her fine gown. As if she sensed my sudden uncertainty, Old Mathilde came to stand behind me, so that the mirror reflected us both.

“I have worked and waited many years for a day such as this one,” she said softly. “To see the light of Constanze’s love shine out into the world once more. You are like the plants in your mother’s garden, my Cendrillon. A bulb long hidden underground. But the blossom is all the more beautiful for being unexpected.”

Old Mathilde leaned forward then, and kissed me on the cheek. “Do not be afraid to grow.”

“I am afraid,” I whispered. “But I will not let my fear stop me. I will be my mother’s child, and yours. I love you, Mathilde.”

“As I love you, my little cinder-child. Hurry now; your family is waiting.”

And so the child of cinders went to the ball.

“Remember to keep your back straight when you curtsy to the prince,” Anastasia instructed as the
carriage inched its way through the crowded streets. “Incline your head and keep your eyes down.”

Inside my fine glass slippers, I wiggled my toes. The carriage turned a corner and the palace came into view. I felt a trickle of unease slide down my spine. During our frantic days of preparation, I had worked hard to push all thoughts of my father to the back of my mind. But soon, we would be at the palace. I would see my father for the very first time.

“Look, there is the palace! How beautiful it is,” Amelie cried. Every window was ablaze with light so that the palace itself seemed to shine like the evening star. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Maman?”

“Only my three daughters,” Chantal de Saint-Andre replied.

“How is it you always know the right thing to say?” I asked, and earned a chuckle.

“I hardly think I do that,” my stepmother replied. “If I did, I would have found a way to say,
no thank you, Your Majesty,
when it came to marrying your father. Though, if I had, I would never have had you for a daughter. All in all, I am satisfied with my share of the bargain.”

“My father will be angry, won’t he?” I asked.

My stepmother reached to give my hand a squeeze. “I imagine he will be,” she acknowledged. “I also imagine he will not dare to show it. We are here by the king’s command. When we obey him, we show we are his loyal subjects”

“Are you not afraid for yourself, then?” I asked.

“No, I am not,” Chantal answered after a moment. “I believe it genuinely angered the king when Etienne sent me from court. My family has served His Majesty long and well. I will call on his protection, if I must.”

“We’re here!” Anastasia cried suddenly. Raoul brought the carriage to a halt before a broad staircase. At once, Niccolo leaped down from his place at the back to open the carriage door. One by one, we alighted behind my stepmother. Niccolo closed the door, stepped back.

“There will not be four more lovely ladies in all the ballroom,” he declared. “Do you not think so, Raoul?”

Raoul looked down from his high perch. “I do think so. And I think you will turn all their heads if you stand there admiring them another moment. Come along, Niccolo”

“Send to the stables when you are ready for us,” Niccolo said. He resumed his position, Raoul clucked to the horses and the carriage started off. With my stepmother in the lead, the four of us started up the steps to the palace.

The ballroom was a sea of faces, a dazzling blur of color and of light. Great ropes of flowers looped down from the ceiling. Mirrored sconces lined the walls. Courtiers in their best attire jostled for position at the edges of the room. In a whirl of skirts and
fancy footwork, couples performed an elaborate dance in a far corner. Snaking through the center was a line of young women, looking like jewels in a necklace in their colorful, shimmering finery. Even as my stomach began to knot in apprehension, I felt a moment of compassion for Prince Pascal.

“I’ll bet the prince is wishing his father’s kingdom was smaller than it already is,” I murmured as we inched our way forward, making our way to the front of the line. My stepmother first, then Anastasia, I came next, with Amelie last in line, I was grateful to be sandwiched between my stepsisters. If not for them, I might have been all too tempted to simply turn tail and run right out the door.

“I hear Gaspard Turenne will be standing beside the prince with a great leather-bound book,” Anastasia whispered back, “The name of every eligible maiden will be recorded in it as we all parade by, one by one. If the prince so much as smiles, a special mark is made by that girl’s name.”

Amelie gave a snort, “Let us hope Monsieur Turenne changed out of his muddy clothes.”

We moved a little farther along. I could see a tight knot of courtiers now, those privileged enough to attend the king and queen and prince. Chances were very good my father was one of them.
Don’t think about that now,
I told myself. If I thought about my father, I’d never be able to keep on going.

“What happens if Prince Pascal wants to ask
someone to dance?” I asked instead, keeping up the game Anastasia had started.

“Then she gets two marks beside her name,” Amelie supplied in a low voice. “And a circle around it besides. After all, an invitation to dance is practically a proposal of marriage.”

Anastasia gave a gurgle of suppressed laughter.

“Girls,” murmured my stepmother. “Behave your-selves.”

We took another few steps, and suddenly the space before us opened up. I had a glimpse of glittering garments, jewels gleaming in circlets of gold. And then Chantal was sinking into a deep and graceful curtsy, with Anastasia right behind her. Mindful of my stepsisters endless instructions, I was careful to keep my back straight and my eyes lowered as I, too, sank down.

“But how is this, Etienne?” I heard a woman’s voice exclaim. “I thought we were to be denied the pleasure of seeing your wife and daughters tonight.”

“I thought so, too, Your Highness,” a mans deep voice replied. “I am delighted to be proved wrong.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Chantal’s skirts move as she began to rise. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hardly believe the whole room didn’t echo with the sound.