Where shall I begin? Let me introduce myself. Have you ever read the story of Cinderella, by that disgustingly stupid man Charles Perrault? If you have, and if you have seen the illustration of poor, poor, Cinderella sweeping the floor, with two girls behind her laughing, I would be the girl on the far right. The prettier one.
Anyway, my name is Javotte Lapere. My father died when I was a child, leaving my mother destitute, eyeballs deep in debts from the high cost of living in Paris. Anyone who tells you that it is wrong not to marry for love is a liar. My mother knew that she had to do such a thing, to find a man who was wealthy and who would support her and her beloved daughters.
So she did. She found Monsieur Dupont, a rich though stupid gentleman. Naturally, my mother could not let such a wealthy prize slip through her fingers. So she married him. Then, quite conveniently, Monsieur Dupont died, though he unfortunately left all of his wealth to his daughter Ella.
Now we come to the part that everyone seems to think is so horrible. Let me put before you the facts. Ella was beautiful, rich, but impossibly stupid. My sister and I were perhaps...well...maybe not so beautiful (at least everyone says so for some reason; I don't see why), certainly not rich, and smart enough not to fall at the feet of the first young man who made goo goo eyes at us (cough, cough, Prince Charming). So, naturally, Ella was competition for the two of us. Living in France in the 1700s was a cutthroat world, folks.
Hence my mother's behavior towards Ella. All right, I understand if maybe she was a little harsh, making the girl work from dawn till midnight and all that, cleaning out chamber pots and sweeping the fireplace out and giving us pedicures. But, really, the fact that Ella was so spineless as to let her step-mother boss her around in her own house shows that she deserved everything she got.
Okay, maybe preventing from going to the ball thrown by the Dauphin of France was a little much. But, really? Ella lived like a pig! She slept in the freakin' fireplace (hence her nickname of "Cinderella")! Honestly, I don't know who would want to be seen in public with her. Certainly not my mother, who had two marriageable daughters who needed to find grooms ASAP. And where else to meet rich young men than the Prince's ball?
Now, you might be wondering how the heck we didn't recognize Ella at the ball. I have to say, I think it was because her stupid fairy godmother put a charm on her so we didn't recognize her. I'm still on the fence about the fairy godmother, though. I honestly think Ella just broke into a boutique and stole a load of fashion items and made up that story to avoid getting caught. Whatever. You know the rest. Prince Charming fell in love with her after dancing for like twenty seconds, Cinderella carelessly dropped her designer-probably-worth-millions shoe on the ground, P.C. mooned over her before coming to our house, etc.
I guess you're still stuck on the fact that we lied to the Prince about the shoe. Big deal. So we did. Who wouldn't want to marry a prince? Especially one as cute as P.C. Unfortunately, we didn't think about the fact that our feet are sort of chubby, and so naturally that flopped.
And then, of course Ella barged in with her stupid tiny feet and stole the show, and P.C. took her away with him, blah blah blah, and now they are living in the castle even though they barely know each other and Ella is still as dumb as a doorknob and can't get the smell of dust bunnies out of her skin.
As for me, I was kicked out of my house onto the streets of Paris, forced to watch as people go to the bookstore and buy copies of Perrault's horribly twisted version of our tale. I think I'm going to start a revolution. Off with their heads! Viva la république!