In a kingdom far, far away, there was once a girl named Bella. She had gorgeous dirty blonde hair and the most striking green eyes that could sweep any man off his feet. She loved to read, and was extremely gentle to animals. But there was one thing, one thing that had been hard to come by lately, that made her so lovable. She was kind.

Her father had been taken away to prison in a horrible misunderstanding, and her stepmother made her slave around the house all day, and her stepsisters abused her. But Bella was still kind to everyone, for she saw no rhyme or reason in being rude to those who surrounded her. She simply didn’t see the point in hurting people.

One day, the king had decided to throw a ball in hopes of finding a suitable young maiden for his son, the Prince, who was coming of that age. Everybody in the kingdom was invited.

“Bella!” Stepmother called, summoning the young girl. She was clutching a broom, and hairs had strayed from her ratty ponytail.

“Y-yes, Stepmother?” She replied shakily. She brushed her free hand on her yellowing apron with fearful eyes.

Stepmother did not notice. “You must go to town to purchase fabric for my-“

“OUR!” The stepsisters called from upstairs.

Stepmother sighed. “Our dresses so that we shall go to the ball.”

“Yes, Stepmother,” Bella replied, “but where am I to find the money?”

Stepmother sneered. “You are to take it out of your earnings, of course. Now go, get out of my sight, you pest! You are not to buy anything for yourself, and be back before noon or your little mice friends will become dinner for Prissy!” At the sound of her name, the fluffy white cat trotted into the room looking like she had just walked out of a salon. Bella rolled her eyes. Of course, even the cat had to look better than her.

“Yes, Stepmother.” She set the broom against the wall and skulked up to her room to find some money. She fought back tears as she dug through her little chest, the only thing she had that was truly her own. In it, there was a picture, only a picture, but the best thing she had. It was her parents - her father, and her real mother. And Bella - as a young child - balanced on her mother’s hip.

Even a blind soul could see the resemblance. She had her father’s eyes, so bright and unique, and her mother’s hair. Oh her mother was quite beautiful, and her father quite handsome. The picture always brought back a wave of sadness as she thought about what could’ve been.

She shoved the thoughts away until she came upon a few rusty coins that would have to do. She treaded back down the creaky attic stairs as lightly as humanly possible as to avoid her stepfamily’s wrath once more.

Right as she shut the door behind her with a sigh of relief, she was greeted by three tiny mice. They squeaked, as if to ask her where she was going and why she was leaving them.

“I’m sorry - I must go purchase fabric!” The mice scuttled off with looks of dissatisfaction, and Bella continued on her way.

It wasn’t long of a walk to the village, and an even shorter walk to find the fabric store. The owner was a kind old French woman who knew of Bella’s misfortunes, and always treated her with kindness and respect, things that were foreign to her otherwise.

“Good morning, Madame Emilie!” She greeted as she entered the store. Madam Emilie was a stout woman with crinkles around her eyes from smiling too much and a heavenly accent.

“My Bella, my Bella! Bonjour! And how are you doing this fine morning?”

Bella sighed. “All is well, Madame Emilie. I’m just here for fabric for my stepmother and stepsisters so that they can go to the ball.” At that, Madame Emilie frowned.

“But what about you? Aren’t you going to attend the ball? You’re such a pretty young girl, I’m sure that the Prince would find you most appealing!”

“Emilie!” Bella said, blushing. She giggled and then walked towards an aisle with shiny looking fabric.

In the end, she came up with silky silver for her stepmother, a velvety pink for Ryalie, and a soft green linen for Anna.

But she snuck in a beautiful purple. Because she would go to the ball.