The Tale Of Cinderella

BY : Fall Plum
Category: Musicals/Plays > Cinderella (Rodgers & Hammerstein) > Cinderella (Rodgers & Hammerstein)
Dragon prints: 10738
Disclaimer: I do not own the musical Cinderella. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

(The title is a title of another story I read before, not original of me, but I couldn't think of anything else.)

Marianne and Portia and I entered the ball, covertly craning our necks to take in the sparkling splendor of the ballroom. There were wooden benches all around and a high platform at the front, where there was a large ornate throne, with two thrones slightly behind it. The ball was almost full.

Portia was dressed in a beautiful satin dress that brought out her blue eyes. The cut of the dress was standard, sleeves, neck, back, waist. It would have been plain except for the shiny white beads in flowery pattern. Her hair was in classic style chignon.

We found a place against the wall and settled into watch more people arrive and greet those already here. About five minutes later we saw Amanda enter. She was really “wow” in a shining silk and satin white dress with a high – turtleneck high – neckline. No cleavage but you could certainly tell she had a generous amount in that department. She had all the works, lace over the skirt, colorful beads forming exotic flowers, etc. Her hair was pulled up and fastened high on her head (very high ponytail) and cascaded from there down her head over her shoulders.

We saw most of the rest of our class, our neighbors, pretty much everyone we knew. Everyone was here.

Finally, at 8:27 – I have no idea why the specific time – the King and the Queen were announced. They walked in and sat in their thrones, the King in the middle of course. He was round and chubby, balding, bad tempered with eyebrows that seemed to hold enough hair for all his bald spots. The queen was rail thin, with a skeletal body and a long neck. They weren’t all that popular.

Then the prince was announced and everyone bowed down again. We rose and looked; there was no prince. He was announced again, and we all sank into bows again, rose, again, no prince. I was afraid we’d be doing this all night but then he burst through the doors, hair flopping, smile shining bright. Everyone bowed again, gladly. He was the shining son, the adored sweetheart of the court. He brought popularity to the royal family, and everyone looked forward to the day he inherited the throne.

“Mother, Father, I am so sorry” He said, kissing them both on the cheek. He turned to the crowd, “Ah, my dear friends, how can you ever forgive me?” He smiled charmingly, sheepishly. The ballroom erupted with no-problem-at-all type responses. He sat down and the ball was pronounced started. Before anything else, there was a long part where all the young, unmarried ladies walked up the gold carpet and bowed and announced themselves, or rather the roll-caller did. It really was like roll call. It wasn’t at all subtle, but it was honest.

“Petunia Allingsworth!” The first name was announced. As James’, Marianne and I had a while to go. Still, it was better then some. I know this girl from school, Helena York.

What seemed like hours later, “Elizabeth James!”

I stepped out of the crowd and walked to the gold carpet. I walked up, eyes down of course. When I got to the stairs to the high platform I sank into a curtsey, looking up under my lashes at the prince with a small smile. He was smiling slightly down at me too. I rose, turned and walked back to the crowd.

“Marianne James!” I sent her a go-get-him look on my way back. She looked calm and collected, though. She did the same deal, and from my view point the prince looked pretty happy with her.

I gave her a questioning look when she got back, and she just gave a small shrug.

Another long while later, “Amanda Peterson!” She drew a few gasps as she majestically walked up the gold carpet and bowed to the prince. He looked positively thrilled with her, as did both his parents. She did, after all, look like she was already a queen. There was some discreet nudging going on up on the platform.

Finally, after the last call – not Helena, there was this French girl with a last name starting with Z, that I can not pronounce – the dancing started. First the prince would pick a lady to start the dance with, so everyone was tense while he rose. And then – he picked the queen. She fluttered her hands and cupped his cheek, and everyone oohed. The King smiled fondly. What a sweetie. I decided I would really pursue him.

As tradition with the first dance, they had the floor to themselves.
When the music ended, everyone went tense again, waiting for him to choose the first real dance. He walked to Amanda and held out his hand. Oh, well, not that surprising.

But what was slightly surprising was; I was relatively close to them, and I think I saw a flash of annoyance cross his face when he neared her. And I swear, I think he was pissed when he realized she was almost as tall as him. Hmm. I guess he’s just sensitive. I mean, I myself want a guy taller then me, though that’s really not much to ask.

This being the second dance the floor was filling up. I kept my eye on them, but then a family friend, Mr. Adams, real sweetie, if about two feet taller then me, asked me to dance so I lost track of them.

During the third dance, this time with Mr. Schmidt, not so much of a sweetie, a leech to tell the truth, I saw the prince come u and tap Schmidt on the shoulder. “Excuse me Sir, but I have to ask you if you would consent to allow me this dance with your lovely partner”

Schmidt didn’t look too thrilled – I’d managed to evade all his wandering hands so far – but he couldn’t really refuse, so he was like “oh of course, of course”.

The prince smiled charmingly at me and drew me into his arms. I smiled back at him, thrilled not to be dancing a whole song with Schmidt, and of course to be dancing with the prince, after all.

He seemed happy enough dancing with 5’3 me, and I was thinking, here I might have a big advantage over Amanda. A server walked pass us, and someone bumped into him, and he spilled his drink over me. I broke away, horrified, and he turned angrily at the server. “You fool! Don’t you know not to walk through the dance floor!”

“Your highness, I beg your forgiveness! Milady, I beg of you, please accept my heartfelt apologies.”
The prince turned to me, “I am so sorry, he shall be well punished, I assure you. Here,” he guided me out of the dance floor into a corridor. “We can get you cleaned up” I smiled gratefully.

We turned into a small room comfortably furnished with a couch, chairs, etc. including a table with a basin and cloths.

“Here, “ he grabbed the cloth, poured some liquid smelling like lavender onto it. He reached out to dab it on my dress, then realized where he would be putting his hand. He blushed. “Sorry. Here” I smiled thanks and made the best of it.

“So, Elizabeth, tell me about yourself?”

“Why” I asked daringly.

He looked taken back. “Well, I guess it’s because I saw you the moment I entered the ballroom, and I’ve been wondering ever since”

I gave him a coy look, “What have you been wondering?”

“What you like. What you don’t. What you did this morning. What you’ll do tomorrow morning. What you’re skin feels l –” His fingers were an inch away from my cheek and our faces were close. He leaned in slowly, and I closed my eyes. His lips met mine softly. I reached up and stroked his cheek a bit, thinking, Screw you, Jack.



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