Kit stood in the window of his dressing room, adjusting his sword belt one last time as he watched the line of carriages making its way down the palace avenue. In a few moments he would take his place in the ballroom at his father's side, and watch princesses, duchesses and maidens from all over the land, and beyond, enter and try to catch his attention. There was, however, only one face that he would look for.

Would she come? The question had plagued him every day in the past few weeks. He clung on to the sincere look in her eyes as she had responded positively to his wish to meet her again. That day in the forest seemed so long ago, yet he had kept every word of their conversation fresh and vivid in his mind. No one had ever spoken to him as she had. No woman had ever dared venture her opinions so freely to him, and it wasn't until she had berated him over the hunting of a stag that he'd realised how sick he was of the fawning sycophants that surrounded him at court.

Would she come? He looked again at the line of carriages stretching for miles through the park, his heart beating a little faster at the thought that she might, even now, be seated in one of them.

A quiet knock on the door, and the Captain of the Royal Guard entered.

"Your Highness, it's time."

"Thank you," and Kit fell into step with the tall dark-skinned officer as they walked towards the ballroom.

"You seem nervous, my Prince," the Captain said, glancing at the way Kit's hands fidgeted as they walked.

"Am I so obvious, Captain?"

"To one who knows you well," the Captain smiled. "Do you still fear that your mystery maid won't appear?"

Kit nodded. "I do not know what I will do if she doesn't come. Or, for that matter, if she does."

"Well," said the Captain as they reached the ballroom door, "as it's a ball, you could always start by asking her to dance."

Ella pinned the last curl into place, and smiled at her reflection. She hadn't had much time to get ready; her stepsisters kept her running to and fro with pins, gloves and fans until the last minute. Still, she was clean and tidy, and the soft fabric of her mother's dress twirled about as she turned. She did feel a twinge of regret as she slipped into her shoes, unable to avoid the comparison between the worn old slippers and the lovely new leather pumps that she had helped Anastasia and Drisella don. But it didn't matter to her as long as she could go to the ball.

Actually, she reflected, as she gathered her skirt and waved a sweet farewell to the mice, she wasn't planning to stay in the ballroom for long enough for anyone to notice her old shoes. She just wanted to sneak one glimpse of the finery, and then go in search of Mr Kit. Although she didn't know what kind of apprentice he was, she planned to ask a servant if they knew him. Perhaps they could walk about the gardens a while. The thought of his warm smile and blue eyes put a spring in her step as she went downstairs.

Her stepmother and stepsisters gaped at her as she stood at the bottom of the staircase, and Ella could already see the displeased look on Lady Tremaine's face.

"It cost you nothing,' she explained quickly. "It was my mother's old dress, you see, and I took it up myself."

"Ooh la," Drisella scoffed, "Cinderella at the ball! No one wants a servant for a bride."

"After all I've done…" her stepmother began, but for once Ella interrupted her, eager to explain herself.

"I don't want to ruin anything. I don't even want to meet the Prince."

"You won't. There's no question of you going." Lady Tremaine looked as if she might be sick at the very idea. Behind her, the two girls looked at her with contempt.

"But all of the maidens of the land are invited, by order of the King."

"It is the King I am thinking of! It would be an insult to the royal personage to take you to the palace dressed in these…old rags." From the look on her face, Ella could tell that her stepmother knew just how hurtful those words were.

"Rags? This was my mother's."

"Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you, but your mother's taste was questionable." Lady Tremaine approached her slowly, gesturing with contempt at the pink dress. "This…thing is so old-fashioned, you'll be the laughing-stock of the ballroom."

Drisella joined in. "It's a ridiculous old-fashioned joke." Anastasia nodded vigorously.

"But...but... I only want to see my friend...I won't go into the ballroom at all if you prefer…"

Lady Tremaine leaned towards Ella, a twisting sneer marring her even features. "Let me make myself quite clear. I will not have anyone associate my daughters with you. It would ruin their prospects to be seen arriving with a ragged servant girl. Because that is what you are. And that is what you will always be." Ella felt the tears beginning to prick behind her eyes as Lady Tremaine pointed a finger at her angrily. "Now mark my words. You shall not go to the ball!"

The three women turned away towards the carriage. Ella was frozen to the spot. She was used to mockery and cruel comments, but this went beyond anything she had known, and now her dearest wish had been dashed to pieces. She would never see Mr Kit again. She walked towards the door, uncertain whether there was anything else she could do.

As she came to the door and watched her stepmother and stepsisters get into the carriage, however, Ella heard someone quietly say her name.

"Miss Ella!"

It was the coachman, beckoning to her. She recognised him at once. Mr Carter lived in the village and had known her father well. She moved forwards, hoping the women in the carriage wouldn't notice her. Thankfully, they were arguing over whose skirts were in most danger of being creased, and paid no attention to her at all.

"Come on, Miss Ella!" Mr Carter held out a hand urgently, and before she could think about it, Ella grasped it and stepped up onto the coach. He pulled her next to him, making space on the driver's seat.

"Mr Carter! What on earth are you doing?"

He drew a thick cloak around her and his wrinkled face smiled down at her.

"Of course you must go to the ball, my dear. Your father would never forgive me if I left you behind."

"Oh, thank you! I'm so grateful to you for your kindness!" And as the coach moved away towards the palace, Ella curled her fingers around Mr Carter's arm and reflected that she was really a very lucky young girl to have such friends to help her. At least she would be able to try to find Mr Kit, and as long as she stayed out of sight of her stepmother and stepsisters, all would be well.