Pumpkin Carriage

When she arrived home, she was thankful to find the house still empty. She was even more overjoyed to find the mice and rats had returned to their garden; it made sense, as their house was the largest in the village, with the most delicious produce. She hid the pumpkin—the last pumpkin of the season—high on a shelf in the shed, hoping it would be safe there.

Cinder’s step-mother and sisters didn’t arrive home until well after two in the morning. She was glad they were so loud because it gave Cinder time to stash her sketches of the prince beneath her bed and to climb beneath her blankets, pretending to sleep. ‘Lazy wench,’ one sister said as she passed Cinder’s door.

The following evening, Cinder waited until her step-mother and sisters were ready to leave for the second night of the ball.

‘Why aren’t you begging to come with us this time?’ her step-mother asked.

‘Because I know you’ll just refuse,’ Cinder said, trying to look dejected, but struggling to hold back her excitement.

As soon as they were cackling in their shiny carriage, Cinder rushed outside, stumbling into the shed. The pumpkin, slightly sunken, was waiting just where she had left it. The mice and rats, so distracted by the delicious food in the garden, hadn’t bothered climbing to the high shelf.

Cinder retrieved the heavy gourd, dragging it out into the garden. She stood for a few minutes, bouncing between the balls of her feet, waiting. When nothing moved, she sat down on the darkened pumpkin, worrying her fingers.

Something rustled in the bushes to her left. Excited, she turned, but it was only a mouse. ‘Where’s my fairy godmother?’ she asked it. The mouse just looked up at Cinder and twitched its little nose.

‘Right here, my dear. You only had to ask,’ came a voice from behind her. ‘Are you ready to return to your prince?’

Cinder leapt up. ‘Yes!’

‘Well, let’s see what we can do about this pumpkin and these rodents.’ With a wave of her wand, the pumpkin grew until it was the size of a carriage, and footmen with pointed, mousey faces bowed down before them. Cinder twirled, her rags now a flowing ball gown and her calloused feet encased in glass shoes.