True Bride

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“Have you no other daughters?” “No,” said the man. “There is a little stunted kitchen wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot be the bride.” The King’s son said he was to send her up to him; but the stepmother answered, “Oh no, she is much too dirty, she cannot show herself !” But he absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had to be called. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the King’s son, who gave her the golden slipper. Then she seated herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, which fit like a glove. And when she rose up and the King’s son looked at her face, he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with him and cried, “This is the true bride!” The stepmother and two sisters were horrified and became pale with rage; he, however, took Cinderella on his horse and rode away with her. 

I love this part of the story—to see the heroine unveiled in all her glory. To have her, finally, rise up to her full height. Mocked, hated, laughed at, spit upon—Cinderella is the one the slipper fits; she’s the one the prince is in love with; she’s the true bride. Just as we are. 

(Waking the Dead , 71–72)