Once upon a time not quite so long ago, there lived a young girl whose parent had died and she was left with a particularly protective and overbearing steprelative. This girl was named Cinderella, and she had to do servantile jobs around the home and in the gardens. Pruning roses, washing laundry, and preparing meals daily were a natural occurence in her life.
Now, one day, while she was diligently scrubbing the floors to make them sparkle - she especially loved to see her reflection in them, as if they were glass - in a ragged kerchief, there came a strange arrival. Strange only to her. It was a blustery day in November, and the wind was blowing things every which way. As a fresh howl came through the trees, Cinderella was glad that she did not have to do more than scrub floors.
There came one rap on the door, and that was all. Cinderella wiped her hands on her apron - she had just polished the doorknobs and was not about to soil them any sooner than she would have liked - and pulled it open, letting in a gust of wind. On the doorstep covered with a mat of leaves stood a herald clutching his plumed hat to his windblown hair.
He blew a trembling blast on his trumpet and proclaimed in a chattering yet grand voice, "Hear ye, hear ye! In honor of the king's return to his castle there shall be held on this ninth of November a ball. All young women are invited, along with all young men suitable of escort." With that, he bowed - nearly losing his hat, Cinderella was quick to notice - and hurried to the next house.
Cinderella shut the door against the protest of the wind and sank down on her aching knees to the kitchen floor. A ball! Oh, of so much splendor as they talked of in the storybooks! With that, she began to hum while she took up her rag and sponge to sparkle her floors again.
And so it was that one of the women residing in the house - not the overbearing steprelative - found her. The woman was about to complain that the dinner left for her was old and cold, and she cared naught for roasted meat during the hour. And furthermore, no dinner dishes had been washed!
Instead she said, "Well my girl, what is the matter with you? You've been scrubbing the same spot of floor for hours - and now without even a fire! Come tell me your troubles."
The girl blinked in the firelight that erupted from the ash-ridden fireplace like a great volcano. Then with numb fingers and red knees she said, "Oh, the most wonderful thing has just happened! One of the king's heralds came to invite me to a ball! It'll be so grand!" For a moment she was lost in her mind with a dreamy expression upon her face, then sobered. Turning to the woman she said, "Oh, you will let me go, won't you? I've never been to a ball before...I'd rather love it, just as much as the storybooks with balls in them. Oh please, can I?"
The woman laughed and said, "Of course, my girl, but just make sure you do the pruning and sweep the leaves from the doorstep and wash the dinner dishes afterwards."
"Oh yes!" cried Cinderella, and from that day on grew into the most wonderful temperament about things. Everyday, to become lost in her daydreams, she would scrub a certain portion of floor and in the end not even look at its glassy mirror-like surface. Instead, she dreamed of the castle itself and the floors polished like diamonds. (Yet even her dreamlike state could not fail to find her an escort. He was only her friend, so do not expect any romance in this.)
Then came the day of the ball, of which Cinderella's overbearing steprelative had heard tell. And while Cinderella was humming to herself - still conscious that she was a girl with her hair in a ragged kerchief scrubbing floors rather than a princess with a golden crown - the steprelative came down the stairs. Stopping before her with a scowl, this steprelative berated poor Cinderella and ordered her to do her chores more properly, especially the kitchen floor. And for this, Cinderella was forbade to set foot into the castle for the ball.
That night, Cinderella watched her steprelative ride out to the castle while she stayed alone, a girl in rags. She cried out in despair, "Oh, is there no one that can help me?" (The woman had left for the day, and her friend did not even know where she was.) She waited and waited, sitting out in the garden where a marble bench was becoming overrun with vines.
Cinderella glanced around at the flowers, vines, and finally the starry sky above her head. Each failed to cheer her spirits as she waited. In the end, she was found at the stroke of midnight with her head in her hands - waiting.