Cinderella Takes the Stage Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Disney Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved.

  Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 1200 Grand Central Avenue, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-368-06882-6

  Lexile: 670L

  Book design by Margie Peng

  Visit www.disneybooks.com

  For anyone who believes in magic

  —T. R.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: A Fairy in the Willow

  Chapter 2: An Unwanted Visitor

  Chapter 3: A Failed Escape

  Chapter 4: A Search in the Village

  Chapter 5: Metal, Moss, and Stone

  Chapter 6: An Unusual Set of Tools

  Chapter 7: A Partner in Puppets and Dreams

  Chapter 8: An Appeal for Magic

  Chapter 9: A Festival of Surprises

  Chapter 10: An Important Voice

  Chapter 11: A Message from the King

  Chapter 12: A Rainbow of Dreams

  Ella stared into the willow tree, looking for a twinkle, a glow, or the movement of wings. “Are you sure there are fairies in this tree, Mother?” Ella asked.

  “Yes, quite sure,” her mother replied.

  Ella frowned. The only wings she could see belonged to the songbirds. Ella came to this bench every day to watch the animals. She was sure if there were fairies around, she would have noticed. But just in case, she looked harder.

  This was Ella’s favorite corner of the garden because there was a feeling here that anything was possible. In this corner, a pear tree had borne fruit after a winter’s frost, a rabbit had nibbled a berry right from her hand, and two hazel branches had grown twisting around each other, as if they couldn’t stand to be apart.

  That Ella could also see the highest tower of the King’s castle from her garden bench didn’t hurt either. With a view of a place where royalty lived, ruling so lovingly over Ella’s tiny kingdom, it was easy to get swept away in daydreams. The songbirds knew all about Ella’s dreams, because sometimes she simply had to tell someone.

  She would tell the birds about the castle’s magnificent sparkling staircase. She’d heard that it was just inside the Grand Hall. Someday, she said, she would float down the steps while someone very important announced her name.

  She would tell the birds about the dress, too. It would be made of silver and gold fabric, just like the one in the window of the village dressmaker’s shop. The one she would buy with the money she planned to win at the Midsummer Festival Puppet Contest.

  The birds would only chirp in reply. And they never told Ella any of their dreams. So she often wished for a different kind of friend to share her dreams with.

  On days like this, when Ella found herself wishing for things that were not there, she was glad to have the company of her mother—even if she was just talking about fairies she couldn’t see.

  One thing Ella could see was an army of ants marching across the garden, right in the path of her shoe. The thought of all those tiny feet crawling up her stocking made Ella squirm.

  Ella gathered her legs to her chest as the ants scurried into their anthill. But before she could return her shoes to the ground, she noticed that one ant was left behind, running in circles around the base of the bench.

  “Ella, dear,” her mother said. “Has this little ant frightened you?”

  “I don’t want it to crawl on me,” Ella said, still hugging her knees.

  Ella’s mother pointed to the ant. “Who might be the more terrified one in this garden? The one who has lost sight of his family and forgotten his way? Or you, with your size and your mother to protect you?”

  She opened her fan, which she always carried on warm days like this one. Blue and red painted petunias blossomed against thin cream paper.

  She laid the fan against the ground. The ant crawled into a fold, and Ella’s mother carried it to the anthill.

  The ant disappeared into the dirt.

  “Everyone deserves a happy ending,” her mother said as she sat back down.

  “I don’t mind the ants. I just don’t want to touch them,” Ella said.

  Ella’s mother pulled her close. “Ella, when you were new to the world, I would bring you out to this bench and sing to you every morning.”

  “I like it when you sing.” Ella rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. She hoped the ant had found its way back to its own mother.

  “I sang so that the fairies would listen. I sang songs about my dreams for you, hoping there might be a fairy who would take a special interest in my little Ella. And then, one day, a fairy did.”

  “In me?” Ella’s eyes opened wide.

  “She flew out of the willow tree, dressed in a blue frock. She asked if she could be your fairy godmother,” Ella’s mother said.

  Ella had never heard of such a thing. “And what did you say?”

  “Silly dear. I said yes!” Ella’s mother laughed. “And she said, ‘Tell Ella, this is her fairy godmother’s tree. Should she ever need some magic, she’ll know where to find it.’”

  “Is this a real story?” Ella looked up at her mother’s smiling face.

  “Do you want it to be real, my darling?” her mother asked.

  “Of course I do!” Ella exclaimed.

  “So then it’s real. Anything can be real if you believe it.” Ella’s mother winked.

  Ella considered this. “But, Mother. Why did you want the fairies to take an interest in me?”

  “I will always be looking out for you, my Ella,” her mother said. “But I knew it wouldn’t hurt if someone with a touch of magic was looking out for you as well. We must always look out for others. Especially the smallest creatures.”

  “Arf!” A bark followed by a series of loud, splashing crashes sounded across the garden.

  “And speaking of small creatures.” Ella’s mother stood. “I think your new puppy could use some looking after.”

  Ella sighed as her mother left the garden. Bruno had knocked over several watering cans, creating a perfect, puppy-sized mud pit. And Bruno liked mud.

  “Oh, Bruno.” Ella picked him up, careful to avoid his dirty fur. She couldn’t help smiling as she carried him to the barn. He whined but stayed still as she washed him.

  “Now, let’s hurry up and have lunch,” Ella told him. “No more playing about with fairies for me, and no more playing about with mud for you. I have to finish my puppets in time to win the contest.” Bruno barked in response and then bounded up the path behind her, toward the chateau.

  Ella entered the dining room just as her parents were sitting down at the table. She eyed the platter in the middle: roasted fish and vegetables—it wasn’t her favorite meal, but it was certainly one of Bruno’s.

  Ella kissed her father on the cheek as she headed toward the kitchen to retrieve Bruno’s lunch. She hadn’t taken two steps before Florence, the cook, appeared with Bruno’s bowl in her hands.

  “Thank you, Florence. Bruno thanks you, too!” Ella took the bowl and placed it under the table. Florence smiled at Ella and retreated to the kitchen. Ella looked at the colorless mush that made up Bruno’s lunch. She’d make sure to sneak him some of the fish.

  Ella took her place at the table next to her mother. She loaded her plate with a small portion and chewed fast enough that she wouldn’t taste it. In no time, her plate was empty.

  “All that chattin
g in the garden with your mother worked up an appetite, did it, Ella?” Her father looked at her, amused. He wasn’t even halfway done with his serving.

  “There’s really no time to waste, Father. If I’m going to win the puppet contest, every minute counts,” Ella said. She scooped a bit more of the fish onto her plate. As her father leaned in for another bite, Ella sneaked a piece down to Bruno’s waiting mouth.

  “It’s hard to believe you’re already old enough to enter,” Ella’s mother said.

  “I’ve only been waiting for this my entire life!” Ella said. “It’s my favorite time of year.”

  Ella’s mother chuckled. “We know it’s your favorite, darling. When you were younger, I had a terrible time pulling you away from the festival bonfires. You were so enchanted that you would come home covered in cinders.”

  “Cinders?” Ella asked. “I love the bonfires, but I don’t remember getting dirty.”

  “I remember,” Ella’s father chimed in.

  “Your father had to rinse you off, just like you were a puppy splashing in the mud.” Ella’s mother tousled Ella’s hair. “Our little Cinderella.”

  Ella scowled playfully. Bruno licked her hand below the table, tasting fish. Ella was hoping she would be excused—soon.

  “How are your puppets coming along?” Ella’s father asked.

  “They’re all right. I’m having a touch of trouble making them look the way they do in my head.” Ella was stretching the truth. She was actually having nothing but trouble.

  “I do wish I could help you,” her mother said. “I never took to sewing myself. It just wasn’t my cup of tea, I suppose.”

  “I’ll sort it out. How hard can it be to make little costumes and little puppets?” Ella asked. She slipped one more bite of fish to Bruno and then fidgeted in her chair.

  “You’re excused, Ella. Run along to work your magic,” Ella’s father said, as if reading her mind. “I brought a couple of things for you from the village, by the way. They’re on the desk in my study.”

  Ella leaped up from her chair. “Oh, thank you, Father!” She hurried to the desk. Folded on top were a piece of plum-colored velvet and a length of black ribbon. They would be perfect for the frog puppet’s suit.

  With her new materials in hand, Ella left the house and ran toward the barn. Bruno trailed behind.

  “Good luck, my Cinderella!” Ella heard her mother call from an open window. Ella turned back and waved.

  The chickens clucked around Ella’s ankles as she passed.

  “I know you’ve all had your lunch already.” Ella winked at the birds and dipped her hand into a pail of corn. She tossed a handful onto the ground. Bruno tried to pick up some kernels, but the chickens kept beating him to it. Ella wagged her finger at him. “If you get extra lunch today, I think they should, too.”

  Inside the barn, Ella made her way to the corner where she’d set up her workplace. She added the new fabric and ribbon to the pile of other materials:

  It was everything Ella needed to make beautiful puppets.

  If only she could actually make them.

  Ella tried not to look at the other pile on the table. It was a collection of misshapen puppet heads and tiny costumes filled with holes from her frustrated stitches. She sat down on her stool, set her shoulders back, and held her head high. No matter about the pile of mistakes. Ella was certain she could figure out how to fix them.

  She picked up the puppet that was supposed to be the maiden. It looked more like a potato.

  She had just set to ripping out the stitches when she heard a clatter outside the barn. Ella dropped the puppet. She turned around to scold Bruno for whatever he had gotten into this time, but Bruno was right there on the ground, snoozing.

  Ella ran to the barn door and saw what had caused the commotion. Next to the doorway was a metal bucket of discarded sewing scraps. The bucket was lying on its side—and it was empty. Ella looked around to see what animal might have knocked it over. But instead she saw a girl running away toward the trees beyond the chateau gate.

  Thief! Ella thought. And before she had time to think anything else, Ella sprinted after her.

  “Hey! Come back!” Ella shouted as she ran. The excitement had awakened Bruno, and he raced alongside her. The girl disappeared into the trees just as Ella reached the edge of the woods. Ella wasn’t used to chasing people, or going into the woods, for that matter. She was about to turn back when she saw the girl again. The thief had stopped running. She was standing, hands on hips, only a few trees away.

  Ella marched toward the thief. As she got closer, she could see that the girl’s clothes were tattered, her face was grubby, and her short, dark hair was chopped unevenly. She didn’t seem to notice as Ella approached.

  The girl was just looking at the ground and…talking to it?

  “Excuse me! What do you think you’re—Oh!” Ella had reached the thief, who wasn’t talking to the ground at all. She was talking to a small, brown-spotted pig whose foot was caught on a tree root. Bruno sniffed the pig.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Claudio,” the thief said to the pig. The pig squealed in response.

  “Surely it’s not his fault,” Ella said, forgetting for a moment why she had chased the girl into the forest. “Here, if both of us pull on the root, I think we can give him enough space to wiggle out.”

  The two girls grabbed hold of the root and tugged as hard as they could. It was thick and tough, but it rose enough to give Claudio room to move. He didn’t budge, however. He stayed there, staring at Ella.

  “Claudio, enough! Move!” the thief urged her pig. Bruno let out one of his best barks. Claudio squealed and jumped away from the root.

  “That’s a good boy,” Ella said to the pig, holding her hand out to say hello.

  Claudio nuzzled her palm and let out a soft snort.

  “This is all his fault.” The thief gave Claudio a scratch under his chin. “He does this kind of thing on purpose. Doesn’t think it’s right to run away and all that. This pig’s morals are too strong for his own good,” the thief said as she picked Claudio up and plopped him in her bag.

  Ella suddenly remembered she was angry. “Well, at least one of you has some morals. What gives you the right to steal from me?”

  The thief rolled her eyes. “Steal? That wasn’t stealing. You weren’t using those scraps. You were throwing them away!”

  “That doesn’t make them yours!” Ella said.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. You can have them back.” The thief dug into the satchel slung over her shoulder. It was actually a flour sack attached to an old leather belt. “I didn’t even realize what I was taking. I could have saved us both some trouble, because these are definitely not my taste—Cinderella.” She shoved a handful of the discarded beads and fabric toward Ella, who accepted them with a huff.

  The thief stomped off in the direction of the village. Bruno barked after them. “Hush, Bruno. They’re not your friends,” Ella scolded him. From inside the thief’s bag, Claudio snorted at Ella and Bruno. He really was quite cute. Ella shook her head. Never mind. She stomped back home.

  Ella arrived back at the chateau to find her parents having tea in the sitting room. She was out of breath from her chase into the woods and her angry return. She flung herself onto the sofa.

  “Well, that was a short work session,” Ella’s father said as he stirred a spoonful of sugar into his teacup.

  “I didn’t do any work,” Ella grumbled.

  Ella’s mother crossed the room and put her hand to Ella’s cheek. “Darling, are you all right? Your face is flushed.”

  Ella patted her mother’s hand. “That’s because I’ve been chasing down a thief when I ought to have been perfecting my puppets.”

  Seeing her parents’ confused faces, Ella told them the story of her encounter with the girl in the woods: from the clattering bucket, to the stuck pig, to her retreat. “I’m too distracted now to get any work done today,” she finished. “And it’s
all her fault.”

  Ella’s parents shared a look. The kind of look they didn’t think Ella noticed, but she always did. It meant they knew something Ella didn’t.

  “What?” Ella asked. “Why aren’t you as angry as I am? Don’t you think stealing is wrong?”

  Ella’s father cleared his throat and set down his tea. “Ella, my sunshine, it’s true that these were materials you discarded.”

  “But that doesn’t give her the right—” Ella began.

  Her father held up a hand, silencing her. “Ella, you’ll often find that people deserve more than one encounter before you rush to judgment. This girl, whom you call a thief, why, she’s more than just a thief. She’s a pig owner. She’s a forest traveler. You can’t know that she meant you harm when she took your scraps.” Ella’s father handed her a cup of tea. “There’s good in everyone. You just have to know where to find it,” he added.

  Ella tasted her tea. Her father always made it just right, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar.

  “What do you think, dear? Do you hear what your father is saying?” Ella’s mother asked.

  “Yes, Mother. Yes, Father. I hear you.” Ella continued sipping her tea. Good in everyone? she thought. The look on the thief’s face when she sneered at Ella’s scraps—that wasn’t very good.

  Yes, Ella heard her parents. But she didn’t have to agree.

  The next morning when Ella woke, her father’s words were still on her mind. They had been there all night, worming their way into her dreams. She also couldn’t stop picturing the face of the little pig, Claudio. He really was cute. And so small. Considering the thief’s shabby appearance, Ella worried whether the pig had enough to eat.

  She decided that instead of her morning daydream in the garden, she’d go to the village to find poor, possibly hungry Claudio. Ella slurped down her breakfast, rushed to help her mother with the chores, and gathered a small bag of grain. She had just set off down the path to the village when Bruno trotted up beside her.