I glance fleetingly from one cruel, pointed face to the next. Two identical scowls and one smirk of anticipation.

He leans down, fragile shoe in hand. This is the point of no return. I catch my breath as the sitting one daintily slides her foot from its bejeweled slipper; she points her delicate toes to allow the shoe easy access.

Alas, her foot is just a bit too long.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

He takes the shoe from her foot, thanks her politely, and dismisses her. She flounces up the staircase with a frown. Now it is the other's turn. Her eyes glint like flecks of unfeeling ice as she smooths her skirts and takes a seat.

Again he kneels. Again, a slipper is discarded. I hold my breath.

He slides it on.

It fits.

I watch his beautiful face split into a grin. "My dear, what is your name?"

"A-Anastasia, my prince," she stutters, blushing and smiling shyly.

"Then we shall be married," he declares.

My heart sinks.

Married! This can't be!

That slipper was mineā€¦!