It’s a very pretty story, isn’t it? I’m particularly proud of the pumpkin coach. And now I get to have pumpkin soup every year on my anniversary. What a lovely little bonus!
The truth is no one knows who the mystery woman was, least of all me.
I found the glass slipper between the butchers and the bakers. A perfect fit, though profoundly useless on its own.
I slipped it into my pocket and forgot all about it until and I got home and the house was in an uproar because the silly prince had promised to marry some runaway.
His valet was prancing about the village with a glass shoe and a promise.
As fate would have it, my big footed stepsister smashed it in a fit of passion.
I pulled the matching slipper from my pocket with a flourish and basked in the stunned silence of the ridiculous girl and her despicable mother.
The slipper was placed on my foot, a ring on my finger and a crown on my head, all before the clock struck twelve.
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