Cynthia Eleanor Goes Dancing

Prince Charming looked down at the size 6-1/2, stiletto-heeled pump sparkling teasingly up from his hand and shook his head in despair. Now at the last cottage in the village, he had failed in his quest to find the female foot perfectly fitting into this shoe. Would he ever find his lovely dance partner of the last two evenings? Whoever she was, she could pirouette from tango to waltz, glide from polka to disco, sway from swing to salsa. And she was light enough on her feet never to have cracked this glass shoe. He was sure he was in love, he just didn’t know with whom, as she had never told him her name, only smiling and flashing her peridot-green eyes at him flirtatiously.

The prince sighed deeply and was about to turn towards the door when he heard a slightly offkey version of “Shall We Dance” accompanied by sweeping sounds in the next room. He caught a glimpse of a tousled blonde pushing ashes from the large stone fireplace into a dustpan. Lifting his eyes to  the matron of the house, he said, “I thought you said no other women live here,” and walked into the next room.

The startled blonde looked up at him and then smiled brightly. “Oh, hi, Prince Charming, nice to see you again!” she said. “Sorry not be so presentable, but you’ve caught me at my day job.”

“Day job? Cinderella,” barked the matron, “what are you talking about? Have you been sneaking out of the house for anything but grocery shopping or mucking out the barn? Don’t your stepsisters and I keep you busy enough to fill all your waking hours?”

“Hold on there, ma’am” interrupted Prince Charming, “I want her to try on this shoe to see if it fits. And then I’ll need to ask you some questions about overtime working conditions here, whether the shoe fits or not.” Turning back to the blonde he said, “So your name is Cinderella?”

“No, it’s Cynthia Eleanor but they,” gesturing with the broom handle toward her two stepsisters, “started calling me Cinderella right after my father died. He used to call me Cindy Ellie, and you can, too. But enough ancient history. May I please have my shoe?”

Of course it fit perfectly, enraging her stepmother and stepsisters who sputtered that she must have stolen clothes to wear to the ball. And where had she learned to dance anyway?

“Dad and I always danced, and my dress and shoes were from my fairy godmother,” retorted Cindy Ellie. The room suddenly went quiet, and four pairs of skeptical eyes fixed on her. “What, you didn’t think Dad could dance?” she asked.

Her stepfamily and Prince Charming all exchanged glances.

“I told you she was off her rocker,” said one stepsister.

“Maybe she’s been snorting the silver polish,” said the other.

“Fairies indeed,” said the stepmother.

The prince raised his eyebrows, then squinted at Cindy Ellie, wordlessly asking her to explain. She sighed and said, “I don’t know why no one believes in fairies. My fairy godmother is as real as anyone else in this room whether you believe in her or not. And we can prove it. Isn’t that right, GodMum?”

A glittery mass rose from the pile of dust Cindy Ellie had swept together, a golden shimmering swirl of nothingness about five and a half feet high. It slowly coalesced into the most drop-dead gorgeous woman Prince Charming had ever seen. Coppery golden hair and liquid azure eyes, and oh, those curves… “Ohhhh,” was all he could say. The stepfamily didn’t have much to say either, being simultaneously stunned and supremely jealous of the stranger’s good looks.

“Non-believers, eh?” asked the apparition. “Well, let’s fix that right away,” she said, glaring pointedly at the stepfamily her goddaughter had served for the last twelve years. She waved a perfectly manicured hand toward them, locking them into permanently marbleized positions.

“Ooooo,” smiled Cindy Ellie. “New garden gnomes! They will be perfect between the dahlias and the sunflowers.”

Prince Charming stood stunned, as if he himself had turned into stone. Maybe he shouldn’t make a pass at this dangerous woman after all, but he had trouble keeping his eyes from fixing on her.

GodMum noticed his ogling stare and pointed a finger at him. He shrank back a bit, well aware of what that finger could do. “Prince Charming, close your mouth and stop staring,” she said. “It isn’t polite and it’s very unbecoming. Now let’s get this shoe thing straightened out.” 

Cindy Ellie spoke up. “Look, Prince Charming, before we go any further, we should know more about each other to know if ‘happily ever after’ could even be a real thing between us. So, just some basic background – which do you prefer, cats or dogs?”

He tore his eyes away from GodMum and wrinkled his nose. “Neither. Always underfoot and too much work to look after. I prefer horses, much more practical. You know: transportation, farming, all that.”

Cindy Ellie shook her head and tried again. “Milk chocolate or dark chocolate?”

“Uh, white chocolate?” he said hopefully.

“That isn’t even real chocolate,” said his inquisitor, wrinkling her own nose at the response. “Okay, last chance. What’s your favorite color?”

“Gray. It goes with everything and doesn’t show the dirt.”

“Dull, but at least it’s practical. Look, Charming, I just don’t think this is going to work out.”

The prince’s face lit up and he spun back toward GodMum. “All right! So – how about dinner tomorrow night?”

“You’re about two centuries too young for me,” said the new object of his attention, “and I don’t dance nearly as well as Cindy Ellie. But I hear there’s a princess up in a tower the next kingdom over, and she’s got blonde hair, too. You could try there. Just ask for Rapunzel.”

“At least I have my shoe back,” said Cindy Ellie. She pulled its mate out from the pocket of her apron, slipped it on and began twirling around the room, suddenly accompanied by tunes from fiddling mice and a cat playing bass cello lined up at the side of the room. She reached out a hand and brought Prince Charming to join her in a rollicking Hambo followed by a polka and a bit of Western swing.

Laughing and out of breath, the dancers fell into big overstuffed chairs on opposite sides of the hearth. “Look,” Cindy Ellie puffed, “I don’t think we were meant for happily ever after, but there’s a dance contest two kingdoms over next month.”

Prince Charming finished the thought. “We’ll knock them dead! Practice every Tuesday and Thursday night?”

“It’s a deal!” said Cindy Ellie, and they shook hands on it.

“Your place or mine?”

“Yours probably has more room, but mine doesn’t have distractions from the rest of your court.”

“And your musicians are certainly every bit as good as mine. So,” Prince Charming smiled with a sly twinkle in his eye, “Hans Christian Anderson or The Brothers Grimm?”

“Mother Goose!” crowed Cindy Ellie.

“Swiss cheese or mozzarella?” the prince managed to choke out between laughs.

“Anything but stinky Liederkranz!” came the reply, and both nearly fell out of their chairs, wiping tears from their eyes as the questioning and laughter bounced back and forth between them. 

Cindy Ellie’s GodMum smiled to herself and faded into a nearby glittering sunbeam, leaving the rest to nature’s own bewitching ways.