which here enchant, take flight, and go,

that can wake your feelings of love

with sweet gifts intended for you.

Observe, these dresses will make you

the most beautiful young lady,

place the hand of the Prince in yours.

Look at the way this one sparkles,

how this one flashes. Precious stones,

pearls, corals readily desire

to adorn your breast, to fetter

gracefully neck and arm. Take them,

and do take it, the entire outfit.

She lets the dress fall to the ground.

If it should feel too tight on you,

don’t worry, an elegant dress

presses itself tight to one’s limbs,

eagerly fitting the body.

Now, let us move on to the shoes.

I believe that you have small feet,

very petite, the kind he likes.

Won’t you be wanting shoes as well?

She holds them up high.

Cinderella:

You’re blinding me.

Fairy Tale:

I came here to put fear in you.

The people don’t believe in me,

but so what when just my nearness

makes them think a little again.

These shoes are silver but as light

as swan’s down. I simply ask you

to hold them nimbly in your hands.

She throws them into Cinderella’s hands.

Cinderella:

Oh!

Fairy Tale:

Don’t taunt your sisters with them.

Be noble with such noble splendor

while comporting yourself just so,

as your nature obligates you.

Cinderella:

O, I promise you.

Fairy Tale:

You are a dear, sweet child worthy

of this fairy tale. Do not kneel!

I beg you, if I am dear to you,

kneel for her, whom I kneel before.

Cinderella (kneeling):

No, let me. Gratefulness surely

feels itself divinely enriched.

Fairy Tale:

It is due to your mother that

I come to you. Such a woman

as lovely as her lives no more,

ornamented by such virtue

that virtue was made lovelier

than her, the loveliest—alive

no longer save, perhaps, in you.

You have what’s sweetest about her,

something that makes women divine,

this alluring serenity

which exists in a noble mind,

this inexpressible something

before which brave men kneel. Be still.

Put on that dress now in silence.

Slip into the palace tonight.

You know the rest of the story.

It’s been dreamt long enough. This scene

must come to life now. To wonder

shall bring fear. And the fairy tale

goes on until its end, its home.

She exits.

Cinderella:

Now quick, lest the sisters catch me

too soon and suffer my lost time

too late. Some whim would rather still

linger here, but a lucky girl

can no longer marry a knave,

she who must flee with her rich things,

hide them. Some whim would rather still

smile here, and yet this happiness,

this smiling, is laughing me onward.

Hurry, lest the Prince see me like this!

She exits.

Prince:

Hey, Cinderella!

King:

The night has come, let us go home.

Prince:

I must be here forever.

Three girls dressed as pages appear.

First Page:

How funny I feel in these clothes.