Once upon a time, there was a frog. He was green, and could hop quite far. He enjoyed showing this off whenever he could. But our story doesn’t begin with this particular frog. In fact, it begins with no frogs whatsoever. Our story begins with a girl living in a small village at the bottom of a hill. On top of the hill sat a beautiful castle, with the loveliest gardens imaginable all around it. The girl sometimes liked to look up at the castle through the windows and imagine what life would be like there.

Not that her life was particularly bad. To the ignorant bystander, it may have seemed rather dull and hard. The girl, Cinderella was her name, did have an obnoxious stepmother who enjoyed ordering her around. And her two stepsisters did get tiresome sometimes. But they weren’t evil; they were simply misunderstood. Their mother made them wear uncomfortable dresses everyday, and insisted that they wear tights. She never let them do anything fun or adventurous, because she was afraid they might rip their tights, and wasn’t keen on buying them new pairs every week. As a result, the girls grew up very sheltered and very miserable.

But not Cinderella. She had a great many friends among the birds and the mice. They were excellent listeners, and were never cruel to her. She didn’t have to wear fancy dresses all day, and she was left alone for the most part, except when she was called by her stepmother. She could sing and dance with the broom in the kitchen, and not worry about what anyone thought. She had the freedom to wander the village when she was sent out on errands, and knew how to climb onto the roof to watch the stars at night. All in all, she thought, it wasn’t a terrible existence.

One day, as Cinderella was out and about in the village, a notice caught her eye. It was fluttering in the breeze, put up in plain sight. Being naturally curious, Cinderella went over and read the notice. It proclaimed that the royal family would be throwing a ball the very next weekend, in honor of the prince. All young men and women in the kingdom were invited to attend, in hopes that some matchmaking would take place. (The notice didn’t say this, but anyone who had not been living in a closet for the past year knew quite well that the king and queen wanted to find a bride for their son, the prince. Those who had been living in a closet for the past year were quickly informed of this by those who had not.)

Cinderella walked away, heart racing. A ball! That meant a beautiful dress, music, lights, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to dance with the prince. Lost in her reverie, Cinderella almost walked straight into a large pole. She caught herself just in time, and hurried off to tell her stepmother and stepsisters the wonderful news about the ball.

An hour later, Cinderella was sitting in the kitchen, tear streaks running down her face. She was not going to be allowed to go to the ball. Her stepmother told her that they simply couldn’t afford a dress for her, what with the fact that her stepsisters had to have their dresses made already. Plus, she added, what prince would want to dance with a girl covered in cinders anyways? Cinderella was crushed. She had so wanted to go to the ball and dance with the prince. But her stepmother was probably right. No prince would ever love her. This thought brought fresh tears to her eyes as she stared into the fire.

All that week, the entire village was a flurry of activity as everyone prepared for the ball. Girls waltzed around the tailor’s dressing room, trying on their gowns. Enticing aromas wafted from the bakery as food was prepared for the occasion. Gardeners worked all around the castle, and servants were busy decorating the inside in preparation for the big night. It seemed that everyone but Cinderella was going. Even her stepsisters were caught up in the frenzy. They came home one day carrying large boxes from the tailor’s, which they promptly tore open in their eagerness to show Cinderella their new dresses.

Finally, the big night arrived. Cinderella saw her stepmother and stepsisters out the door and down the road. The three of them had their hair pinned up, their nails done, and their dresses laced up. Cinderella thought that her stepmother looked very like a desperate, middle-aged woman, and that her stepsisters looked like very frilly lampshades. She wisely kept these thoughts to herself, and only heaved a deep sigh as they drove off.

A few minutes later, she found herself in the kitchen, singing to herself as she did the dishes. “Dearie, you had better not sing for the prince when you get to the ball. It might frighten him away, and that would be such a shame.” Cinderella whirled around, splashing herself with soapy water as she did so.

“Oh, darn,” she said to herself. Then she remembered why she had turned around so quickly. “Who are you?” she demanded of the plump little woman who had seated herself comfortably at the kitchen table and was helping herself to an apple.

“Why, I’m your fairy godmother, dearie. Surely you knew that? Well, obviously not, because you went ahead and asked. But that is quite beside the point. You have a ball to get to!”

“S-sorry?” said Cinderella hesitantly. She was feeling rather flabbergasted at all of this.

“You know, duckie! A ball! With music and dancing and that sort of thing. My goodness! Have you lived in the basement all your life?” In her excitement, sparks flew from the fairy godmother’s hairpins, threatening to ignite her hair. “Oh dear, that simply will not do at all!” she muttered to herself, patting the sparks out. “Now, go get ready! The prince won’t wait all night!”

“But, but I’m not allowed to go to the ball,” stammered the still-shocked Cinderella (one must admit that she was doing rather well for just having had a fairy godmother appear at her kitchen table). “I don’t have anything to wear, and I’m a bit dirty.”

“Oh, pish tosh, dearie. A little dirt never hurt anybody. But that dress won’t do, you’re right in that regard. Hm…” As she said this, the fairy godmother pulled out a hairpin to reveal that it was, in fact, a slender wooden wand. “Turn around there, that’s a dear…”

Cinderella did as the fairy godmother asked, slowly turning around on the spot. She even raised her arms for added effect. “There! I think that will suffice, don’t you, dearie?” the little woman asked.

Cinderella looked down and gasped. Her worn dress and apron and turned into a beautiful white dress, shimmering with gold. It fit her like a glove, gracefully following her wherever she moved. With another wave of her fairy godmother’s wand, she felt her hair being arranged into a bun involving lots of hairpins. “I feel so… beautiful. So elegant, so royal…” she breathed.

“Well, of course you do, dearie. Did you think I would let you be anything less, hmm?” her fairy godmother asked, not unkindly. “Now, you’ll find a carriage waiting for you outside; I’ve taken care of that, too,” she said, in answer to Cinderella’s questioning glance. “But you’ll find that you’re short a few mice for the time being. Now, this is very important, so listen well. You must leave the ball before the clock strikes midnight. My magic is good, dearie, but it won’t last after that. It’s in the Rulebook somewhere. Now, let’s see, have I forgotten anything? Oh yes, of course! How could I be so silly?”

The fairy godmother pointed her wand at Cinderella’s feet. There appeared beautiful, flawless slippers on Cinderella’s feet. “They’re glass!” Cinderella breathed. “How-?” But her fairy godmother waved a hand to shush her.

“There isn’t time for questions now, dearie. You have to get to the ball! There’s a handsome prince waiting for a princess. And remember, it’s not the dress that makes the princess, dear. It’s her heart. Now go! And have a lovely time!” She ushered Cinderella out the front door into the waiting carriage, which had a strange orange tint to it. “And remember, dear! Midnight!” she called as the carriage pulled away, carrying Cinderella up to the palace.