For the rest of the day, Cinderella primped the ladies for the ball. The eldest stepsister wore Cinderella’s pastel pink gown and scolded her for working so slowly.
“Oh, goodness. She is ripe with jealousy, isn’t she?”
Cinderella overheard the stepmother remark.
“Isn’t she just? Must be hard to see such a pretty gown look better on someone else,” screeched the eldest.
Cinderella curled their wigs, sewed their masquerade masks, hemmed their dresses, and powdered their faces.
Then the women left for the ball in the same extravagant horse-drawn carriage they had first arrived in.
Cinderella ran to her room and wept softly on her bed.
