‘The fire needs making up! Where is that girl? Ella! Ella!’ Fanny Hardup swept through the kitchen and into the scullery in search of her step-sister, young Ella Hardup, but she was nowhere to be seen. Fanny’s other sister, her other real sister, Bertha, started to open cupboards. ‘What are you doing, Bertha? She won’t be hiding in a cupboard, will she!’

‘She did once,’ Bertha offered.

‘No, she didn’t!’ roared Fanny. ‘We locked her in a cupboard. That’s something entirely different!’

‘Sorry,’ whispered Bertha, meekly. ‘Where do you think she can be?’

‘I don’t know, but she should be here, with the fire made up. It’s freezing! Where’s Buttons? Buttons!’

‘He’s not here, either,’ said Bertha.

For answer, Fanny swung round and clouted Bertha on the ear with her handbag. ‘I can see that, dummy! That’s why I’m calling him. Get a grip, girl. And don’t start looking in cupboards for him, either. Buttons! Get your sorry self in here or it’ll be the worse for you!’

But there was no sign of Buttons either. The two women left the kitchen and returned, still shivering, to the living room, there to await the arrival of their father, Baron Hardup. He would deal with his youngest daughter, no doubt. The problem was, the Baron had a soft spot for Ella. In truth, he preferred her to his two elder daughters, and had it not been for the fact that Ella’s wife had only recently passed away, things might have turned out differently in the Hardup household. For a start, Ella’s mother had hated the two older step-sisters, and had done everything she could to get them married off and out of her hands. But it was a sad fact that both Fanny and Bertha were just plain ugly. They had always been ugly, but as the years passed and no one was prepared to ask for their hands in marriage, or just to take them out dancing, or even to MacDonalds, they had taken to wearing lots of bright make-up, and outrageous hair-dos, so that they were, in fact, quite hideous. Although, of course, they thought themselves absolutely stunning.

At the precise moment that Fanny and Bertha retired to the living room, Ella was in the back garden playing with some of the village children. Ella was just seventeen years old, with long, golden hair. She was delightfully pretty, even though they treated her more or less as a servant. She was dressed in rags, but then so were the rest of the village children, for it was a poor village, mostly farm labourers and people who worked at the castle for the King. Ella was playing tag, and though she was a little older than the others, she felt quite at home with them, and chased round the fields as though this was the happiest day of her life. That was how Buttons found her, laughing, exhausted, and clearly enjoying herself. You may be wondering how the boot boy came to have a name like “Buttons”. Well, I’ll tell you. And while I’m at it, I may as well tell you what a boot boy is. But first, his name. Buttons was called buttons because of the uniform he wore, a fine blue tunic with shoulder pads, and a row of shiny silver buttons down the front. Buttons’ job was to clean all the boots and shoes in the house of Baron Hardup. And if you know anything about women with lots of money, you’ll know that the first thing they do is to collect lots of shoes. And moreover, his job didn’t stop with cleaning the household boots and shoes. It extended to anything and everything the Baron and his two ugly daughters could think of.

Of course, Hardup wasn’t really the family name. It was Orgelhanker-Schmidt. Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? Well, Baron Wilhelm Johannes Orgelhanker-Schmidt had a bit of a reputation for being miserly. That means he never wanted to pay for anything. When the tailors brought his new suit for him to try, he would admire himself in it and then ask if there was anything they could do to trim the cost. When the baker delivered the iced buns he would take four instead of three and ask if there was a discount for bulk purchase. Everything he bought, he haggled over the price, and the villagers nick-named him Baron Hardup because of it. Mind you, it wasn’t altogether his fault.

When Wilhelm Orgelhanker married his first wife, Petulia Schmidt, Fanny and Bertha’s mother, she had been rich. Very rich. Incredibly rich. And they had quickly changed the name to Orgelhanker-Schmidt. Well, a double-barrelled name sounded so much more posh, didn’t it? Then Petulia had gone off with another man, leaving Wilhelm Orgelhanker-Schmidt to bring up the two girls on his own, until Ella’s mother had come to the village. Unlike Petulia Schmidt, Verena had been very poor. But Wilhelm fell in love with her and they got married, much to Fanny and Bertha’s disgust.

It was Verena’s idea to cut back on the girls’ allowance. She thought they spent far too much, especially on shoes, and she persuaded Wilhelm that their spending money should be a little less. Well, this did not go down too well, I can tell you, and pretty soon Fanny and Bertha, now in their early teens, decided to do something about it. Now there is absolutely no evidence that they were responsible for poor Verena’s death, but to tell you the truth, it stinks a bit. This is what happened. Verena was out one day when it started to rain. The rest of the family were indoors, in the warm, playing Snakes and Ladders. Wilhelm sat with his back to the window, in a wing-backed chair. Verena banged on the widow, but the game was becoming quite noisy. Like I said, there is no proof they had anything to do with it, but some say that Fanny and Bertha knew that poor Verena was trying to get in, and that one of them had already locked all the doors. Anyway, Verena caught a cold. The cold turned into pneumonia and she died within a week, leaving Wilhelm to bring up Fanny, Bertha and little seven-year-old Ella. And the Baron, being a weak-willed sort of chap, caved in when the two girls said they needed more spending money. As the years passed, so they spent more and more money, forcing the Baron to make economies wherever he could.

Ten years later, and here they were, very ugly, so ugly the servants had to hide the milk jug in case they turned it sour, and incredibly jealous of their younger sister, whom they did not consider to be their sister at all. They treated Ella abominably. What? You don’t know what abominably means? Well, I’ll tell you. It means they treated her very badly. Why didn’t I say “very badly” in the first place, I hear you ask. Well, I’ll tell you that, as well. Abominably means worse than very badly, so that will give you some idea of just how badly they treated her. No, you’re right, it won’t, will it? Tell you what I’ll do, I’ll stick the word “indeed” on the end, get rid of “abominably”, how’s that? They treated her very badly indeed. That means they treated her very badly – and then some. Will that do? Happy with that? Good. On with the story.

With Verena dead, Ella became little more than a servant. But to keep Wilhelm happy, to keep him from guessing how badly they were treating her, Fanny and Bertha decided to give Ella a special job, so that it looked as though she was better than a servant. They made her fire-keeper. Her special job was to clean out the fires in the morning and make up new ones ready for the coming day. This meant that she got very dirty. Not just dirty, but very dirty. Really dirty. Raking out the ashes and the cinders was a filthy job, and by breakfast time Ella was covered in soot from head to toe. Because of this she was not allowed to eat her breakfast with her father and the two older girls. Instead she spent more and more time with the servants, and in particular with Buttons, and they gave her the nick-name “Cinders”. At first they simply called her “Cinders”, then that became “Cinders-Ella”, and finally “Cinderella”. Actually, Ella liked that name better than just Ella, and so it sort of stuck. Except Fanny and Bertha insisted on calling her Ella, while everyone else in the house called her Cinderella.

Now that we’ve cleared all that up, we can return to the point where Buttons came upon them, playing in the back garden. But first, I suppose I ought to tell you that Buttons wasn’t his real name, either. It was Jakob. But everyone called him Buttons.

‘Cinderella, they’re complaining about the fires,’ Buttons called. ‘I heard them calling you, then me. I thought I’d find you here.’

‘Oh, no! I forgot to make the fires this morning!’ Cinderella cried. ‘It was such a nice morning, the sun was shining, and the children came to call for me. I lost track of the time! Buttons, what should I do?’

‘I’ll tell them you were sick,’ Buttons said, grinning. ‘I’ll start on the living-room fire. They’re in there now, shivering, waiting for your father to beat the living daylights out of you. Don’t worry, I’ll see they don’t beat you!’

‘But they’ll have you beaten instead!’ Cinderella cried.

‘Yes, but I’m a bloke. I’m stronger than you are. I can take it. Carry on with your game. They won’t come down here looking for you, I guarantee.’

‘Buttons, are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ Buttons said dreamily. And of course, that was the truth. He was quite sure. Quite sure he would do anything to protect his beloved Cinderella. You see, he was in love with her. Actually, it suited him quite perfectly that Cinderella was treated as a servant, because that meant he got to see quite a lot of her, and that was really good, because he really liked her rather a lot. Like I said, he was in love with her. Oh, he knew the day would come when she would stop being a servant, and some bloke would come along and whisk her away to be his wife, but for the time being, he spent most of every day in her company, and he was blissfully happy. In her own way, Cinderella loved him back, but not in the way he would have liked, more as a brother, really, and knowing that, Buttons would do anything in his power to keep things the way they were.

He was on his way to the living room, fully aware that he was in for a beating for not getting the fire ready, when he heard a commotion in the village square, and decided to investigate. Well, he was going to get a beating whatever happened, it might as well be for a good reason, not just for not getting the fire going. In any case, it was a warm Summer’s day. The two old hags only wanted an excuse to have someone beaten, it wasn’t really cold at all. Buttons pushed his way through the jostling crowd until he got to the huge oak tree in the village square, the one where they pinned all the important notices.

‘There’s going to be a huge party up at the castle!’ an old woman was saying. In fact, she was the only one in the village who could read, apart from Baron Hardup and his family, and so everyone paid attention. Of course, what really should have happened is that the King’s messenger should have called out the town crier, who could have informed the entire village about what was going on. But he didn’t, he assumed that most of the villagers could read. ‘With dancing, and jelly, and cakes. All the noblemen in the province are invited. Invitations will be delivered personally by the King’s Messenger,’ the old woman went on.

‘Why are they telling us?’ grumbled Peter Scroggins, the village blacksmith. ‘We’re not invited, so why bother telling us? It’s only old Hardup and his two daughters who will be going from this village.’

‘Three daughters!’ cried Buttons, before he could stop himself. The King’s messenger had re-mounted his horse and was about to start off back to the castle. Instead, he rode up to Buttons and peered down at him.

‘Three daughters? I was told the Orgelhanker-Schmidts had only two daughters. Only three invitations have been written out. For the Baron, for Fanny and Bertha.’

‘Three daughters,’ Buttons told him. ‘The Baron married again. He has a seventeen-year-old daughter, called Ella. She is of noble birth, she is Wilhelm Orgelhanker-Schmidt’s daughter as well!’

‘Very well. I will see to it that another invitation is written out,’ said the King’s messenger, and rode off, though it is beyond me why he should have taken the word of a boot boy in such an important matter.

Wishing he’d said nothing, Buttons made his way back to the Baron’s town house and went straight into the living room, where the two sisters and their father waited expectantly.

‘Before you say anything, Cinderella is not well, it was my job to set the fire, and I forgot. I’m sorry. So beat me. But before you do, I have something important to say. The King’s messenger will soon be delivering invitations for a grand party up at the castle, and you’re all invited!’

Well, his little ploy worked. They were so excited at the prospect of getting invitations to the King’s party that they clean forgot about the fire not being lit. Buttons got it going anyway, even though it was quite warm, and then he got a modest beating for getting soot on his beautiful blue tunic, but that was not so bad, and he was soon back in the kitchen with the rest of the servants and his dear Cinderella.

He was in two minds about mentioning the party, but having spoken up for her in the village square, he really couldn’t not tell her, and so he did.

‘Do you think I will be invited, then?’ she asked, her big blue eyes wide with excitement.

‘Yes, you will. I told the King’s messenger the baron had three daughters.’

‘Oh, Buttons, you are a dear!’ she cried, and to his amazement, she kissed him on the cheek. Then she began to dance around the kitchen, to the delight of the assembled company of servants.

‘She was born to dance!’ sighed the cook. ‘So graceful, so pretty!’

‘I bet the other two find a way to stop her going to the party,’ the scullery maid said. Buttons frowned. He hadn’t thought of that, and now he did think of it, it was extremely likely that was what they would do. They were insanely jealous of the pretty little girl that they would probably do everything in their power to stop her going.

Later that day, a messenger from the King arrived and knocked on the door. Baron Hardup himself opened the door as he wished to make a good impression. Little did he know that the King’s messenger would have been more impressed had a servant opened the door and shown him into the Baron’s presence. But, as we already know, the Baron was not particularly bright, otherwise he would not have let Fanny and Bertha run rings round him and treat his favourite daughter as little more than a servant.

‘Baron Orgelhanker-Schmidt?’ the messenger asked.

‘That is I,’ the Baron said, with a beaming smile, bowing so low his wig almost parted company with his head. Again, had he his wits about him, he would have realised that one did not bow to a messenger. The King’s messenger was nothing more than a servant himself. He raised his eyes to the heavens as if to say “Oh, my God! The man’s a perfect idiot!” and inclined his head.

‘I have come to deliver your invitations to the King’s party, which will take place this coming Saturday. It is to celebrate the birthday of the King’s son, the prince, so make sure you bring suitable gifts.’

The Baron nodded excitedly. ‘Of course, thank you. Won’t you come inside and have a cup of coffee with us?’

‘Thank you, no, Baron. I have many other invitations to deliver. You will see to it that these are handed out to the members of your family?’

‘I will, most certainly. Thank you! Thank you!’ said the Baron, shutting the door. Fanny and Bertha had been waiting. Fanny snatched the four invitation cards and scanned them briefly, then handed one to her father.

‘Here’s yours,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure little Cinders gets hers. Leave it to me.’

‘Thank you, my dear. What a pity your two mothers could not be here to attend the party as well. Now, what shall we get the little prince for his birthday?’

Now it should be mentioned here that the little prince was in fact twenty years old, and on Saturday would be twenty-one. This was going to be his “coming-of-age” birthday. And had the Baron and his two vain daughters managed to keep up with court gossip and comings-and-goings, they would have known this. Instead, they assumed that the prince was a young boy. And although he was a fairly rich man, the Baron was still cautious about spending too much money, especially as Fanny and Bertha were so extravagant. He insisted that the servants looked through their personal belongings to see what they could come up with, and was delighted when Buttons found an old wooden train set and the cook found an ancient teddy bear with one eye and his arm hanging off. The Baron gave orders for the train set to be painted and the cook promised to mend the teddy bear. By Friday evening the two meagre gifts were ready for inspection, and the Baron was delighted with the result. All he had had to pay for was the paint, the thread, and a new glass eye for the bear, and they were as good as new.

‘Tomorrow, the party,’ he breathed, beaming, unaware that the servants were absolutely disgusted with him and horrified at his meanness. Moreover, Buttons was particularly sad, as he had hoped to pass the train set on to his own children, should he ever have any. Actually, he dreamed of marrying Cinderella and running off to another household with her where they would be treated with kindness and respect, and could start a family of their own. It was while he was reflecting on the sorry state of affairs that would see him losing the train set forever that Fanny and Bertha came downstairs to find Cinderella.

‘Hmm, nice fire you have going down here in the kitchen. It’s better than the one in the front room!’ Fanny observed.

‘It’s not a fire,’ Buttons told her. ‘It’s the oven, dummy. It’s where cook makes all your meals. Can’t you see that leg of mutton roasting over it?’

Bertha slapped Buttons on the side of his face. ‘Don’t you dare talk to my sister like that, you little weasel!’ she screamed. Buttons scowled. ‘Where is the girl?’

‘You mean Ella, your step-sister. Why don’t you say her name?’ Buttons said.

‘Well, where is she?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I have her invitation here,’ Fanny said, producing the card and waving it in front of Buttons’ face. ‘I’d like to give it to her personally……’ At that precise moment Cinderella opened the kitchen door and came in with a bucket of coal ready for the morning fires. It was a particularly windy day, and as the door opened, the wind took the ticket out of Fanny’s hand and plonked it on the roaring fire.

‘Oh, dear!’ Fanny said, laughing gleefully. ‘Gone up in flames. Ahh, well, never mind, you could never have gone anyway!’

Cinderella dropped the coal-scuttle and rushed to the fire but it was too late, the card had curled up and was consumed by the flames. She had made the fire too well for her own good!

‘We’ll tell you all about it!’ Bertha trilled, and they trooped off up the stairs.

Saturday came, bright and sunny. At daybreak Buttons found Cinders where she had sat, all night, sobbing her heart out. He tried to comfort her, but she got up and ran out into the yard, pushing him away.

‘My turn to lay the fires again, I guess,’ he told himself, and started upstairs with the coal and the matches. ‘Why they need a fire on a day like this beats me!’

By midday, Cinders had still not returned. In fact right now she was trudging through the woods beyond the farthest edge of the village, her head down, her chin almost on her chest, tears in her eyes. Every now and then she kicked a stone. She held her hands together behind her back. She was very, very miserable. All she had wanted was to receive the invitation to the party. She knew very well that she would never be able to go, for she had only the raggedy old dress which she wore now, whereas the others had wardrobes full of ball-gowns, cupboards full of shoes and trinket boxes bursting with jewellery, some of which probably belonged to Ella.

Without realising it, she went further and further, deep inside the woods, somewhere people from the village just didn’t go, because some people said it was a haunted wood, and some people said that witches lived there, witches and goblins and fairies. Normally Ella would not have dared to venture into the woods, but today her mood took her. She was not angry, though she had every right to be. Fanny and Bertha had deliberately spoilt her invitation. But she was sad. Sad because they didn’t seem to like her. She simply didn’t know the meaning of the word “jealous” and yet that was what they were. Yes, Fanny and Bertha were jealous of their little step-sister because she was so much prettier than they were. Not just pretty, but beautiful.

It was quite dark even though it was only around mid-day, because of the density of the forest and the height of the trees. Once or twice she caught sight of the sun high above, but its rays didn’t really stand a chance against all those leaves and all that greenery. And then, out of nowhere, she found herself staring into the face of a timber wolf. It was twenty paces away, and its teeth were bared in a terrifying snarl. Ella looked around but saw nowhere to run to. She started to panic. The wolf started to walk towards her, and she flattened herself against the trunk of an old oak tree. Then she heard the thunder of hooves and a man on a huge white horse charged the wolf, causing it to turn on its tail and flee. The man jumped down from the horse with a smile. He was young, just about the same age as Ella, very tall, with dark brown hair. His riding trousers were badly torn, as was his brown jacket and white shirt. As far as she could see, he carried no weapons, no sword, no pistol.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I’m fine, thank you, Sir,’ she said, dropping her head.

‘No need for “Sir”,’ he told her. ‘I would hazard a guess you’re lost.’

‘I took a wrong turning. I’m not lost. Just gathering my wits.’

‘You’re sure I can’t take you home?’ he asked.

She at last lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. He was extraordinarily handsome, with a strong chin and broad shoulders.

‘No, I’ll be fine, thank you for your concern. Do you work for the King?’ she asked. It was all she could think of to say.

‘In a way, yes. And you. Who are you?’

‘I live in the village. My father is Baron Orgelhanker-Schmidt.’

‘Baron Hardup, you mean? Oh, sorry, that was very rude of me. Look, your arm is scratched. You must have leant against the tree.’

He took out a silk handkerchief and gently dabbed at the blood on her upper arm. ‘You should sit down. You’re very pale.’

‘It’s a little chilly in the centre of the forest. I didn’t think to bring a shawl with me,’ Ella told him. She allowed him to lead her to the stump of an old tree that had blown down in the recent storm. He took of his jacket and placed it gently around her shoulders.

‘What is your name?’ he asked her.

‘Ella. My family call me Cinders-Ella.’

‘Why on Earth would they do that?’

‘It’s my job to make up the fires. Anyway, what’s your name?’

‘William.’

‘I’m very pleased to meet you, William. Look, I don’t need your jacket, it’s a little warmer now.’

‘Keep it, I have another one,’ William said. ‘Cinders-Ella, I have to go now. I’m needed at the castle, to help with the preparations for the party tonight. I’ll see you later.’

And before she could tell him that she would not be going to the party, he had vaulted onto his beautiful horse and galloped off through the woods the way he had come.

Cinderella – look, let’s stop shilly-shallying around and call her Cinderella from now on, shall we? – sat on the tree stump and pulled out a scrap of cloth that served as a hankie. William’s handkerchief was still tied round her arm, although the bleeding had now stopped. She wiped her face, thought about the injustice of what had happened once more, and started to cry again. Pretty soon she closed her eyes and dreamed of what might have been – though she knew in her heart of hearts it would never have happened. She dreamed of arriving at the castle in a white coach trimmed with gold and pulled by four white stallions. She dreamed she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown and silver shoes. She danced with the King’s son, the prince, but mysteriously, she never got to see his face, and everyone’s heads were turned to see who the mysterious stranger was…. And then she woke up with a start. It was almost dark. She must have been sitting on the tree stump for hours. Her heart missed a beat. She should have been home, helping Fanny and Bertha to get ready for the party.

And then she saw it. A pretty little rabbit, sitting on the ground in front of her, its head on one side. She was fairly certain she had seen this rabbit before, for it had a white blaze on its forehead, it favoured one leg, and it had a huge set of whiskers, longer than a cat’s. And then, incredibly, it spoke.

‘Cinders, you’ve been crying.’

Feeling slightly foolish, she replied, ‘I’m sad, rabbit.’

‘I know that. I know why, too. Would you like to see what could happen, if you really want it to?’

‘How?’

‘There’s a pool, a sort of a bird-bath in the hollow of a tree, deep inside the woods. If you look into the water when the moon is shining on it, you can see things that could happen – if the circumstances are right.’

‘Further into the woods? I don’t think I dare, rabbit, I’ve already come too far.’

‘Nonsense,’ said the rabbit, firmly. ‘You shouldn’t listen to what the villagers say. There are no ghosts in the woods. Nothing to harm you.’

‘What about witches, and fairies?’

‘Yes, there are witches and fairies. They’re both one and the same thing, really. A witch is just a fairy that’s grown old. I could take you to a fairy and she could sort you out. I don’t like to see you cry, you know.’

Cinderella laughed. ‘There, I’ve stopped. Come on then, rabbit. If I can’t go to the party, I’ll go with you to see your fairy friend. How’s that?’

‘You’ve more courage than anyone I know,’ the rabbit said, giving a hasty look behind him. While he had been telling the truth about there being no ghosts in the woods, there were other dangers he had not mentioned. Wolves, for example…..

The little brown rabbit set off down the path with Cinderella following. Soon they came to a clearing where there was a little wooden shack roofed with thatch. Inside a roaring fire was blazing away. Then the door opened and a tall, beautiful young woman came out. She was dressed in a simple white shift, and she had long, shiny black hair. Her feet were bare.

‘I’ve brought someone to see you, Nimue,’ the rabbit said. ‘This is Cinderella. She lives in the village. She was supposed to go to the party at the castle tonight but she lost her invitation. She’s very sad. Can you help her?’

‘I will see what I can do, Thomas. Did you bring Cinderella to look in the mirror?’

‘In the pool. I told her it was a bird-bath,’ Thomas the rabbit said.

‘You did well,’ Nimue said. ‘Cinderella, I may be able to help you. Come into the hut and tell me about yourself.’

‘Are you a witch? The rabbit said you were a witch.’

‘I am one of the fairy-folk. People think that fairies are very small, like dragonflies and butterflies, probably even smaller – and that we live in toadstools. But fairies were walking this Earth long before Man came. I am young by fairy standards, but old by yours. I have been here nearly fourteen hundred of your Earth years. I was married, once, to the sorcerer, Merlin, who lived when King Arthur ruled Britain, but that Age passed and I came here, to live in middle Europe, when Merlin died at the hands of the evil fairy Morgan, and I’ve lived here, in the woods, ever since.’ A wistful look came into Nimue’s eyes as she recalled her past. ‘In years to come they will tear down this beautiful forest. The wolves will be driven away. They will build houses of stone and I will be forced to find somewhere else to live. All things must pass. Man will take over the Earth, and one day he will ruin it, and then the fairy folk will come back and attempt to put things right.’

‘You could always live with me,’ Cinderella told the fairy. ‘I don’t have much, just a small room in the attic of my father’s house, but you could share it. There’s room for another bed, and there is always enough scraps from what Cook prepares for the others. You wouldn’t go hungry.’

Nimue smiled and took hold of Cinderella’s hands. ‘Thomas, you did well to bring this girl to me. She is a shining example of all that is good in the race of Men. I will help you, Cinderella. Come and look in the mirror of Nimue.’

She led Cinderella to a huge oak tree stump which had been hollowed out to hold a silver bowl full of crystal clear water. ‘Look into the mirror and tell me what you see, Cinderella,’ Nimue said softly.

Cinderella peered into the water and saw what she had already dreamed, herself arriving at the castle in the coach and four, dancing the night away with the young Prince, and everyone looking at her, wondering who she was. She turned to Nimue, who held up her hand.

‘No need to describe it. Cinderella, have you ever been to the castle?’

‘Never.’

‘Then you have no way of knowing what it looks like?’

‘Not at all. Others have described it to me. But there was so much detail…..’

‘That is because what you saw in the mirror will happen. This was no fantasy, but fact. You will go to the party, exactly as you saw yourself in the mirror. But there are conditions. Certain conditions.’

‘What must I do?’

‘Well, for starters, you have no invitation card. I can fix that. Every party held by the King has an invitation for someone imaginary. They do it every time. It’s a sort of game they play. I can get that invitation for you, for fire doesn’t destroy totally, not if you know what to do, but it means that you will not be able to stay beyond the midnight hour. There are others of my race in these woods, and their powers balance mine out. For every spell I weave, their magic places conditions that even I cannot bypass or overcome. There is nothing I can do about it. You have to leave the castle by midnight at the very latest.’

‘It must be nearly that already!’ Cinderella cried.

‘No, it is approaching nine of the clock. There is plenty of time. First we must fashion a ball gown for you.’

‘My hair!’ cried Cinderella. ‘My hair! It is a perfect mess!’

‘Wash it in the waterfall behind the hut,’ Nimue said. ‘It will be fine. More than fine, it will be magnificent!’ Nimue turned away and began to chant a spell, very quietly. At once a host of moths and butterflies appeared as if from nowhere and began to collect materials from the forest with which to make a dress, silks from the silkworms, threads from spiders’ webs, and so on. ‘While they work, we will find you some shoes,’ Nimue continued. ‘Although I think they will have to be slippers rather than shoes. I have a pair I was keeping for a special occasion. They will do nicely. They’re made of the finest glass, crafted by Elves in the glass mines near the Ilsenstein.’

‘I never heard of that place,’ whispered Cinderella.

‘What about the coach, Nimue?’ Thomas the rabbit asked.

‘What about it, Thomas? Don’t you still have that cart I made for you when you broke your leg last winter?’

‘Of course, Nimue. I’ll fetch it at once. Would you like me to pull it also?’

Nimue laughed. It was like the sound of wind chimes, a bright, silvery laugh that cheered up the entire forest. ‘No, I have others in mind for that. You could be the footman, though, if you like?’

‘I like! I like!’ Thomas said, and ran to his burrow to fetch the little cart. Cinderella started to feel an onset of panic. Her stomach fluttered, and her head was dizzy. Could this really be happening, or was it all part of an elaborate dream? She wondered if the mushrooms she had eaten for her breakfast had been magic in any way, causing her to have these vivid dreams. But she had not dreamed the wolf and the young boy on the white stallion also, surely? The area around Nimue’s hut was a frenzy of activity. Insects and birds were hard at work fashioning a dress for her out of the finest silks and threads, Thomas was returning with the little wooden cart, which was much too small, by the way, in case you were wondering. Well, a wooden cart for rabbits to play with was hardly going to be big enough to transport Cinderella through the woods and up the lane to the castle, now, was it? I ask you!

Nimue chanted another little spell and at once four huge rats came scurrying out of her hut and sat before her, their whiskers twitching in anticipation. Ordinarily, Cinderella would be afraid of rats, and would fall back on the safety of her broom to get rid of them. But somehow she knew something was going to happen, and that these rats served Nimue in some way or other. She closed her eyes and opened them again, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She even pinched herself on the arm. Then she closed her eyes again. If there was magic about, she didn’t want to see it.

‘Cinderella, your dress is ready,’ Nimue told her. ‘Open your eyes.’ Cinderella opened her eyes to see Nimue holding out the most beautiful dress, a fine net of silk and gossamer threads, almost like chain-mail such as the soldiers wore when they went to war, only this was bright, shining like gold, twinkling as though it was made of a million tiny jewels. ‘Go into the hut and put it on while I get your coach ready.’

Cinderella took the dress carefully and found that it weighed next to nothing. She went into the hut, expecting to see jars with newts and toads and snails in, waiting to be transformed into some mythical monster by Nimue’s magic, but instead all she saw was a homely little hut with a bright, roaring fire, a small rocking chair, a table, a bed, and an oven. It was enchanting. Cinderella slipped off her work clothes and stood in her under-shift, gazing at herself in a tall mirror next to Nimue’s bed. Then she slipped the dress over her head. Although it weighed so little, it sort of shimmied down over her chest, over her hips and clung to her as though it had been made just for her – which of course, it had.

‘My hair!’ she gasped.

‘Brush it with my brush,’ Nimue said, entering the hut, and helped Cinderella to get all the tangles out of it. When she next looked into the mirror, her hair was a cascade of beautiful golden tresses, and she looked – beautiful. There was no other word to describe her. ‘Come now, your coach is ready.’

Cinderella and Nimue left the hut. In the clearing stood a small but finely wrought coach trimmed with intricate gold carvings. Four beautiful grey stallions stood waiting to pull it, and a handsome footman sat atop it, holding the reins.

‘In you get,’ Nimue said. ‘Stop at your house. Your friend, the boot boy, will have your invitation ready for you.’

Cinderella climbed into the coach and closed the door. ‘Nimue, what can I do to thank you?’

Nimue turned round three times. The third time, she was no longer young and beautiful, but incredibly ancient, with a wrinkled face. Her eyes were still kindly, but her expression was not so serene. ‘I told you, Cinderella, there is other magic than mine in the woods. You cannot stay past midnight. The dress will turn back into the shift you wear beneath your work clothes, the coach will turn back into the cart from which I fashioned it. The stallions will once again be my pet rats, and Thomas the footman will become Thomas the rabbit. All that will remain as it is now, is the pair of glass slippers you now wear. There is nothing I can do to prevent this happening, it is the law of magic. I wish I could help you further, but the rest is up to you. When you get to the castle, seek out one you already know. Now you must go!’ Nimue turned round another three times, and there she was, the original Nimue, the young, beautiful witch, waving to Cinderella as the little coach made its way through the forest.

It was ten o’clock before they reached the Baron’s house, but sure enough, Buttons was there, on the front doorstep, waving a card in his had. ‘Cinders, you’ll never guess what happened! The fire suddenly roared into life – I was going to let it go out on its own – and this flew out of it and landed smack bang in the middle of the carpet. It’s your invitation to the party! Cinders! You are gorgeous!’

His jaw dropping open, Buttons walked to the coach and handed Cinderella the card through the open window. She smiled and touched her lips to her fingers, then pressed them to his face. ‘Thank you, dearest Buttons,’ she said in a whisper. The coach pulled away from the house and started up the steep lane to the castle.

‘They’re not going to get there till gone eleven,’ Buttons said. ‘Though why that should matter I haven’t the faintest idea!’ He watched until the coach was out of sight, then returned to his duties.

At last the coach pulled up outside the palatial steps that lead to the castle gates. Thomas jumped down from the top and opened the door to help Cinderella out. He led her carefully up the steps and took her invitation card from her to present to the man at the door.

‘This is Princess Titania,’ he told the man. ‘She is expected.’

The gateman examined the card as though he was in a trance. Thomas led Cinderella over the threshold. ‘Remember, you are Princess Titania, and you must leave by midnight. Remember! The rest is up to you.’

‘I don’t understand…..’ Cinderella said, but then Thomas was gone and she stood at the top of an enormous flight of stairs. Below was the ballroom. To the left was a stage where the band played. To the right was the dance floor, and the ball was in full swing. As the music drifted up to her, she started down the stairs, and then before she knew what was happening a dozen young men were there to assist her, each one clamouring for a dance, bombarding her with questions about who she was and where she had been all their lives, no, where had she been all evening. Cinderella at last found her voice.

‘I have come from a land very far away. The journey was longer than I thought. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Will someone please get me a drink of fruit juice?’

Now she was the centre of attention. ‘Who are you?’ a young man in a soldier’s dress uniform asked her.

‘I am Princess Titania,’ Cinderella said. ‘Will you please escort me to that chair? I must rest before I dance. I promise to dance with each and every one of you – time permitting. But first I must sit for a moment to get my breath back.’

Murmurs of “Princess Titania” started up around the company. No one had heard of her, no one recognised her, no one dared to ask where she had come from, in case she had brought an army with her! Cinderella danced with all the young men who had greeted her on the stairs, and then it came the time for her to be presented to the King’s son, the young prince, and as she looked up into his face she realised that it was the young rider she had met in the forest earlier, the one whose handkerchief she still carried.

‘Princess Titania,’ William muttered. ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’

‘I don’t see how that’s possible, your highness,’ Cinderella said. Behind her, in the queue to be presented, she could hear the loud, brash voices of her two step-sisters, Fanny and Bertha. ‘The rest can wait a moment,’ William said, taking Cinderella’s hands in his. ‘I wish to dance with the Princess Titania. Please play for me,’ he said to the musicians. As they turned and went down the steps to the dance floor, Fanny and Bertha caught their first glimpse of the girl everyone had been talking about since her arrival at a little after eleven o’clock.

The prince took Cinderella in his arms and swept her round the floor as the musicians played a beautiful waltz. ‘I know I have met you before, yet you say you come from a land far, far away. I could dance with you all night, Titania,’ said William.

‘I would like that,’ Cinderella said dreamily, and rested her head against his shoulder. His lips brushed hers. Far away, the clock began to chime the hour of midnight, but Cinderella barely heard it. One–two–three. She felt herself being transported into the air on the wings of angels as the Prince held her nearer. Four-five-six. Thomas, watching anxiously from the entrance, covered his eyes. This was too much for a poor little rabbit to bear! Seven-eight-nine. ‘What time is it?’ Cinderella asked.

‘Almost midnight,’ the Prince answered, and then came the three last chimes, ten-eleven-twelve. Cinderella’s eyes opened in horror as her dress fell away, leaving her in just her under-shift. She ran from the Prince, up the stairs as fast as she could, taking off her slippers as she ran. Thomas the footman was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for her one second, the next he was gone and in his place was a little brown rabbit. Cinderella threw herself through the gateway, past the astonished gateman, dropping one of the slippers. Barefoot now, she ran down the lane, her heart pounding, her hair streaming out behind her, until she reached the village. Through the town centre she dashed until she came to the Baron’s house. She threw open the door and dropped, exhausted, into one of the chairs. It was there that Buttons found her a few moments later. He desperately wanted to ask her about the party, whether or not she had met the King’s son, and what it had been like to wear that fabulous ball gown fashioned by the Queen of the Fairies, but he dared not wake her. Instead, he covered her with a soft blanket and left her to sleep, though he was troubled by the expression on her face. It was a look of anxiety, mixed with a few tears.

Meanwhile, Prince William had gathered his wits about him and rushed up the stairs after the fleeing Princess Titania. At the top of the stairs she was nowhere to be seen, but on the floor he saw the little glass slipper. The Prince dashed through the castle gates searching in vain for the little coach that had brought Princess Titania to the ball, but it was nowhere to be seen, neither it nor the handsome grey stallions that had pulled it. Dejected, he turned back to return to the ball, but now that Titania was gone, he had not the desire to dance with anyone else, and one by one the guests departed. The King and his wife, Queen Matilda, found their eldest son sitting in a rose bower, holding the glass slipper.

‘Does that belong to the Princess Titania?’ his mother asked softly.

‘Yes, it does. Mother, I’m certain I saw her before tonight, yet I can’t place her.’

‘William, I don’t want to disillusion you, but it seemed to me that when the clock struck twelve and she ran away, she was wearing just a shift, the sort, you know, the sort a servant would wear.’

‘She was no servant,’ William cried indignantly. ‘She was proud and elegant. And I’m sure she is a local girl.’

‘Nobody here recognised her,’ the King said. ‘If she lived nearby, we could send out a messenger with the slipper, get all the girls to try it on, so to speak. Maybe we should try everyone in the village? Get all the girls to line up in the village square and try on the slipper. Only the girls of noble birth, that is.’

‘William, I think we should retire for the night. There’s another day tomorrow,’ Queen Matilda observed. ‘Come along. Things will look altogether different in the morning. You’ll see.’

The Prince lay awake most of the night, racking his brains as to where he had seen the Princess Titania. Yes, she had said she came from a far-off land, but he was not convinced. Moreover, it had not been the regal ball gown that looked as though it had been made from diamonds that made her what she was, it was her manner, her demeanour. He was more than ever convinced that he had met Titania during the previous day, and began to go over what he had been up to.

‘I got up at nine o’clock and had breakfast. She’s not one of the castle servants, I’m sure of it,’ he told himself. ‘Besides, no one would dare to pretend they were of noble blood if they were just a servant and had pinched a ball gown from one of the guests. No, it was not in the castle that I saw her. What did I do next? I played a ball game with some of the squires. I went riding. Back to the castle for luncheon. Went riding again. Stopped in the village to speak to some of my father’s subjects. Carried on, out into the woods…..’ He stopped, suddenly, remembering. ‘It was quit el ate, the sun had gone down behind the mountains. I met this young girl. Cinders-Ella, she said her name was. Daughter of Baron Hardup – I mean Baron Orgelhanker-Schmidt….no, Baron Hardup, it’s easier to say! Her hair was long, and golden, and she had green eyes. But wait! I’m sure that when Baron Hardup arrived he apologised for the fact that only two of his daughters could attend the ball, and neither of them was Cinders-Ella! Only one way to find out!’

William leapt from his bed and plunged his face and hands into the ice-cold water in the pitcher on the dresser. He dressed in his most casual clothes and ran to the stables to saddle the very same horse he had been riding when he had met Cinders-Ella in the woods. It was not quite sun-up when he reached the village. One or two people were about, delivering bread, milk, and the daily paper. William stopped the baker and asked him the way to Baron Orgelhanker-Schmidt’s house.

‘It’s down that street. It’s a fine house,’ the baker told him. ‘Painted yellow and black. The roof’s a little crooked, but you can’t mistake it. It has twenty-five chimneys.’

‘My thanks to you!’ cried William, and rode off down the cobbled street. When he got to the baron’s house, he jumped down from his horse and banged the knocker on the front door. A few moments later, a young boot-boy wearing a blue tunic opened it.

‘Your highness!’ gasped Buttons, recognising the Prince at once.

‘I need to see the daughter of your master,’ Prince William said, holding out the slipper for Buttons to see. ‘She was at the ball last night and she left this behind.’

‘What’s going on, Buttons?’ Fanny shrieked. ‘Close the door at once, it’s freezing cold!’

‘It’s the Prince, Lady Fanny,’ Buttons told her. ‘He wants to see the Baron’s daughter.’

‘Ask him in! Ask him in!’ Bertha screamed, curtseying. The Prince stepped through the door and into the Baron’s house. The Baron himself, who had heard the loud knocking, now entered the hallway and dropped to one knee when he saw who the young visitor was.

‘Your highness!’

‘Baron, your daughter was at the ball last night. She dropped a slipper. I am returning it,’ said Prince William.

‘It’s mine!’ screamed Fanny at once, and dashed forward to seize it. She put it on the floor and tried to cram her ugly size ten foot into it, but of course, it would not fit. Angrily, she sat down. Bertha immediately stepped forward and took the slipper. Her feet were just as big as Fanny’s and try as she might, she could not get it into the little dainty slipper. She held out the slipper to the Prince, who took it back.

‘You have no other daughters, Baron? The girl who wore this slipper last night is the girl I shall marry,’ the Prince said.

‘No other daughters!’ Fanny said at once, and Bertha agreed very loudly. It was Buttons who spoke up, for the Baron appeared to have lost his tongue.

‘Cinders! I’ll fetch her!’

‘No!’ screamed Fanny, running after him.

‘She’s just a serving wench!’ Bertha cried. But they were not quick enough to prevent Buttons from finding Cinderella in the next room, where she was making up the fire. He dragged her to her feet and pulled her, protesting, into the hallway. When she saw the Prince standing there holding the glass slipper, she blushed fiercely and dropped a beautiful curtsey.

‘Will you try on the slipper, my beautiful Titania?’ William asked gently.

‘I’m not beautiful at all!’ she cried. ‘I’m covered in soot and ashes. My hair is not combed or brushed, I have on only my rags…..’

‘Your beauty shines through all of that,’ William said. And incredibly, he dropped to one knee before her and placed the slipper on the floor, then lifted her foot very carefully and slid it easily into the glass slipper.

‘It’s not mine!’ she whispered. ‘It belongs to Nimue. I only borrowed it.’

‘Nimue!’ Screeched Fanny. ‘She’s a witch!’

‘No,’ said Cinderella quietly. ‘She’s a fairy. She’s one of the fair folk. She isn’t a witch at all.’

‘She lent you the slipper so you could go to the ball as Princess Titania, isn’t that right?’ William asked. Cinderella nodded.

‘Then it was you I danced with last night, you to whom I gave my hand and my heart, you who fled from the ball at midnight in just your cotton shift and wearing only one slipper. It is you whom I love with all my heart and you whom I shall marry!’

Fanny fainted. Bertha sat down heavily and broke a chair that had been in the Baron’s family for three hundred years. Cinderella stole a sidelong glance at Buttons, who smiled bravely and gave her the thumbs-up sign. The Baron simply did not know what to do. A royal wedding, with his youngest daughter to marry the Prince! Whatever next?

‘Princess Titania, will you be my wife?’ William asked proudly.

‘I will,’ she said firmly. And a week later, they were married. Even Fanny and Bertha mellowed a little because it meant that they got to go to two parties in the space of just a few days, and there was nothing they liked better than parties!

Months later, Cinderella, who was now Princess Titania, and who would some day become Queen Titania, discovered that she was carrying the Prince’s baby. She was so pleased, and so was he when she revealed the news to him.

‘There is something I must do,’ she told him. ‘I must ride into the woods, alone. I won’t be gone too long.’

‘You should not ride in your condition, Titania,’ William said. ‘I will come with you.’

‘No, I have to go alone. You can accompany me to the edge of the forest and wait for me there. I will be quite safe. Besides, I am only one month gone. The baby will be perfectly all right.’

‘Very well. But take my hunting horn with you and blow it three times if you are in any sort of trouble,’ William said.

Of course, she had gone to see Nimue. When she arrived at the little hut, she soon found Thomas, the rabbit, but of Nimue there was absolutely no sign.

‘She’s gone,’ Thomas told her. This forest has been bought by a man who intends to clear it. He is going to build a village, and a railway line to take wool from his mill to the nearest town.’

‘Where did she go, Thomas?’

‘To the East, towards the mountains. They all went. All the witches.’

‘Will I ever see her again?’

‘Probably not as you remember her, but she will always be with you in one way or another. She is your Guardian Angel. She knew you would come to find her, and she left me to tell you. Now my job is done, I can go back to being a plain rabbit again.’

‘A plain rabbit? Thomas, it was you who took me to Nimue in the first place! Without your help none of this would have been possible!’

‘And are you happy, Cinderella?’

‘They call me Titania, now’ she whispered, smiling. ‘And yes, I am as happy as I could ever have wished to be.’

‘Then it is time for me to go and rejoin my own kind.’ Thomas the rabbit loped off into the undergrowth to join his fellows. Cinderella, now the Princess Titania, rode thoughtfully out of the forest to find William waiting for her.

‘Nimue has gone, William,’ Cinderella said sadly. ‘I never got to thank her. And I can’t help thinking that our time, the time of Kings and Princes also, is coming to an end. There is change all over Europe. The old ways are vanishing.’

‘As long as we remain true to each other, no harm can befall us,’ William said, smiling. And so it was. William and Titania became King and Queen of their small kingdom when William’s mother and father passed away. Titania bore William three beautiful children, two boys and a girl. And the funny thing was, the girl grew up to be just like Nimue, tall and beautiful with long, shiny black hair. And that is the end of the extraordinary story of Princess Titania and Cinderella. I hope you enjoyed it.