Cinderella Page #3

- Good morning, Miss Ella.

Good morning, Tom!

Sing sweet...

Hello. Don't mind if I...

What a lovely Chantecler. Well done.

Thanks.

- 'Morning.

- 'Morning.

Thank you, Miss Ella.

You're welcome.

Ella!

Wake up, girls! It's lunch time!

Mornings did not agree

with Ella's stepsisters.

And they lacked accomplishment

in such domestic arts

as keeping house.

In fact, they lacked

accomplishment in any art.

It was a lover and his lass

With a hey, and a ho

And a hey nonino

That o'er the green

corn-field did pass

Sweet lovers love

The spring

Sweet lovers love

The spring

Do shut up.

Ella's great comfort

were the letters that Father

would send from his travels.

The weeks away

lengthened to months,

but every day would bring his

thoughts from some distant part.

Miss Ella, it's the mail coach!

Until late one afternoon...

Farmer John?

Miss Ella.

It's your father, miss.

He took ill on the road.

He's passed on, miss.

He's gone.

To the end, he spoke only of you, miss.

And your mother.

I was to give you this.

But what about my lace?

My parasol?

Can't you see? None of that matters.

We're ruined.

How will we live?

Thank you.

It must have been very difficult for you.

How indeed to live.

Economies had to be taken.

Ella's stepmother

dismissed the household.

Her stepmother and stepsisters

ever misused her.

And by and by they considered Ella

less a sister than a servant.

And so Ella was left to do all the work.

This was a good thing,

for it distracted her from her grief.

At least that was what

her stepmother said.

And she and her two daughters

were more than happy

to provide Ella

with lots and lots of distraction.

In their defense,

they did share with her

the very food they ate,

or rather, the scraps from their table.

She had little in the way of friends.

Well, her friends were very little.

There you are.

Have dinner with me, won't you?

But those friends she had,

she treated with an open heart

and an open hand.

Your table.

Sometimes, by the end of the day,

the drafty attic was too cold

to spend the night in,

so she lay by the dying

embers of the hearth

to keep warm.

I thought breakfast was ready.

It is, madam.

I'm only mending the fire.

In future, can we not be called

until the work is done?

As you wish.

Ella, what's that on your face?

Madam?

It's ash from the fireplace.

Do clean yourself up.

You'll get cinders in our tea.

I've got a new name for her!

Cinderwench.

I couldn't bear to look so dirty.

Dirty Ella.

Cinder-ella!

That's what we'll call you.

Girls, you're too clever.

Who's this for?

Is there someone we've forgotten?

It's my place.

It seems too much

to expect you to prepare breakfast,

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