As you well know, our efforts to discourage Sin that night failed because the Fairy Godmother considered her such a paragon of virtue that she waved her magic wand. Sin came to the ball. She was like a goddess sent from heaven and conquered Prince Charming by dancing flirtatiously with him. But the next day, news came that the prince had somehow lost his true princess. All that was left of her was a single slipper. The prince searched for the shoe’s owner at every house, including ours.

Mother, still dreaming we could find a match of royal pedigree, made Sin hide when my sister and I took turns trying on the slipper. But the slipper was too small. I tried to force my foot inside. Alas, my toes were so bulky! My big toe was larger than most. Mother handed me a knife. ‘Cut it off. You don’t need it. If you become queen, you won’t be doing much walking.’ I took hold of the knife, bit my lip hard and amputated my toe. I tossed the first morsel of my flesh into the trash so that stray dogs could eat it. You would do well to know, child, that this world is filled with poorly fitting shoes that only accommodate the mutilated.

Once I had sliced off my big toe, I managed to squeeze into the slipper. I limped, grimacing. The slipper chaffed against the wound. Still, Prince Charming carried me off in his coach. I glanced at the dazed face of my future husband. He didn’t look happy. He must have thought he had drunk too much the night before. How could the beautiful girl of his memories be me? He said nothing during the trip, until the chirps of a bird sounded:

Lo, behold this girl who lies

Bloodying her slipper until it dries

That bird – the crow from hell – pecked at the coach, desperate for its augury to be heeded. My husband-to-be ordered me to take off the slipper. He bellowed, almost fainting at the sight of my butchered flesh. He said nothing, asked me nothing. Without further ado, I was dispatched back home.

The tragedy was repeated. My younger sister was asked to try on the slipper, but her foot was too large as well. Only this time, her heel was what wouldn’t fit. Like me, she carved off part of her foot with the kitchen knife. Like me, she stepped up into the coach and, down the road, was serenaded by the same snitch bird.

Prince Charming returned home, rage casting a shadow on his face. ‘Don’t you have another daughter?’ he asked, furious at my mother for fobbing off rotten fruit. He wanted an unblemished apple. His viceroy ransacked our home, and found Sin in the attic. More precisely, Sin was waiting to be found; her sobs could be heard from outside. She was no less calculating than we were.