“You, Cinderella,” she said, “dusty and dirty as you are, you want to go to the ball? You have no clothes or shoes, yet you want to dance?” But when the poor child kept pleading, she finally said, “Here’s a bowl of lentils poured into the ash. If you can pick out every one in two hours time, you can go along.”
So the girl slipped out the back door to the garden and called out:
“Dear little doves, little turtledoves, and all the birds in the sky,
Come and make my poor heart glad
And help me sift the good grains from the bad.”
Then two little white doves flew in the kitchen window, and two turtledoves flew in after them, and soon all the birds in the sky came flapping and flying down and landed in the ash. And the little doves nodded with their little heads and started pecking: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And then the other birds got to it: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And they pecked out all the good grains and dropped them in the bowl. Hardly had an hour gone by than they were done with it and all flew away again. The girl was happy and brought the bowl to her stepmother, thinking now she could go to the ball.
But her stepmother said, “No, Cinderella, you have no fancy clothes and you don’t know how to dance. Everyone will laugh at you.”
When the girl cried bitter tears, the woman said, “If in one hour you can pick two bowls of lentils out of the ash, then you can go,” thinking to herself, She’ll never manage. And when the woman had poured the two bowls of lentils into the ash, the girl slipped out the back door into the garden and called:
“Dear little doves, little turtledoves, and all the birds in the sky,
Come and make my poor heart glad
And help me sift the good grains from the bad.”
Then two little white doves flew in the kitchen window, and two turtledoves flew in after them, and soon all the birds in the sky came flapping and flying down and landed in the ash. And the little doves nodded with their little heads and started pecking: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And then the other birds got to it: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And they pecked out all the good grains and dropped them in the bowls. Hardly had half an hour gone by than they were done with it and all flew away again. The girl was happy and brought the bowl to her stepmother, thinking now she could go to the ball.
But the wicked woman said, “It’s no use, you can’t come along, since you have no fine clothes and don’t know how to dance. We’d be ashamed of you.” Whereupon she turned around and hurried off to the ball with her two proud daughters.
Left all alone, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave, stood under the tree, and called:
“Dear little tree, quiver and quaver,
Be my lifesaver.”
Then the birds threw down a gown of silver and gold and a pair of silk slippers embroidered with silver thread. She hastened to slip into the dress and rushed to the ball. But her stepsisters and stepmother did not recognize her and thought she must surely be a princess, so lovely did she look in her golden gown. They did not give a thought to Cinderella, convinced she was back home sifting the lentils from the ash. The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. He did not want to dance with anyone else and so never let go of her hand, and when anyone else came over to ask her to dance, he said, “She’s my dance partner.”
They danced until evening, whereupon she got ready to go home. But the prince said, “Permit me to accompany you,” for he wanted to see to what family the lovely girl belonged. But she slipped away and leapt into the dovecote. The prince waited until her father came, and he told him that the strange girl had leapt into the dovecote. The old man thought, Could it be Cinderella? And he called for an ax and a pick to break the dovecote in two – but there was no one in it. And when they entered the house, Cinderella lay there in the cinders in her filthy clothes, and a dim little oil lamp burned in the chimney. Cinderella had jumped out the back of the dovecote and run to the tree, where she took off her lovely gown and lay it on the grave, and the birds carried it away again, and then she slipped into her gray smock and sat herself down in the cinders in the kitchen.
The next day, when the festivities started up again and her parents and her stepsisters went back to rejoin the party, Cinderella returned to the tree that grew beside her mother’s grave and said:
“Dear little tree, quiver and quaver,
Be my lifesaver.”
Then the bird dropped down an even more splendid gown than it had the day before. And when the girl appeared at the ball in this dress, everyone marveled at her beauty. The prince had been waiting impatiently for her, and promptly took her by the hand, and she only danced with him. When others came over to ask her to dance, he said, “She’s my dance partner.” When evening fell she made ready to leave, and the prince followed her, wanting to see what house she entered, but she gave him the slip and dashed into the garden behind her house. There grew a big, beautiful tree heavy with the ripest, most luscious-looking pears. She climbed up the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the prince couldn’t find her. He waited until her father came and said to him, “The strange girl slipped away, and I think she climbed that pear tree.” The father thought, Could it be Cinderella? He called for a hatchet and hacked down the tree, but there was no one hiding in it. As soon as she reached the kitchen, she lay herself back down in the cinders, as usual, for she’d managed to jump off the back of the tree, brought her lovely gown back to the birds, and slipped into her gray smock.