Cinderella
Cinderella had a sleepless night, unable to get the image of the man’s blue eyes out of her mind.

The next morning she swept the floors with the corn broom, washed the walls with the sponge, pruned the gardens with the cutters, and began preparing breakfast. As she set the dining table, she could hear the wicked ladies complaining.

“Terrible ordeal that was!” screeched the eldest.

“QUITE horrid!” whined the youngest.

“The prince was with that woman all night.”

“It’s because you wore that uuugly pink dress.”

“Now, now, girls. Come eat your breakfast. And wipe that stunned look off your face, Cinderella. It doesn’t suit you,” said the stepmother.


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