toothycat | Maybe I'll give up on this build for tonight and go home.

Original here.

"Why are you crying, sweet lady?"
Cinderella quickly wiped her eyes with a sleeve and turned towards the voice. A strange lad sat on the fence, swinging his legs and watching her; barely older than Cinderella herself, wearing some kind of plain rags and barefoot.
"I'll cry if I want to. What business is it of yours?"
"Can't I ask?"
"You can if you like," Cinderella grunted, "but don't go calling people names."
"I didn't! I called you a sweet la-..."
"You'll have a black eye in a minute," Cinderella warned him darkly.
"Well, all right, then." The lad grinned. "Let's try this. Hey, you, horrible hag, what's with the waterworks?"
Cinderella giggled and batted the grinning boy away.
"Get off with you! I want to, so I cry."
"Maybe I want to help?"
"Oh, yeah?" Cinderella raised an ironical eyebrow. "Sure, then, if you want. I still need to plant fourty rose bushes. And these sacks of barley and millet to husk.
The stranger grimaced.
"No, I don't know how to do that. Sorry."
"What can you do, then?"
The lad thought awhile then said simply:
"Not much, actually."
"So why offer your help?"
"I'm not insisting, mark you! I just thought..."
"What?"
"Well... maybe you need some kind of miracle?"
"Are you a magician? You said you didn't know how to do anything."
"I'm not. But my godmother is a fairy."
"Liar."
"No, 's true."
"Don't believe you."
"Well, all right, let's say I'm a liar. But if I wasn't - what would you want?"
Cinderella thought for a minute.
"Could your godmother turn a pumpkin into a carriage?"
"She could. But why?"
"So I could go to the ball."
The boy whistled.
"The ba-all? What would you do at the ball?"
"What's wrong with me at the ball?", Cinderella burst out angrily. "You think I'll ruin the party for everyone?"
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" The lad waved his hands and almost fell off the fence. "It's just that... there's nothing interesting there! Just a ball like any other. Everyone walks about all stiff, bows and talks rubbish - it's so boring!"
"You're teasing again!"
"No, really! I'd... I'd run away from there myself, if I got a chance!"
Cinderella examined the lad's lanky frame, his rags and bare feet, and snorted.
"They'd never let you near the place."
"That's true," he laughed in relief.
Cinderella sighed.
"If only I could take just a peek..."
"What's there to see there?"
"The prince."
The lad stared thoughtfully at the sky over Cinderella's head.
"What of the prince? He's just a prince..."
"They say he's very handsome."
"They're probably lying."
"They might be," Cinderella agreed. "So I'd like to see myself. I've never seen a real prince."
"What's to see?" The lad scraped a flake of paint off the fence with his fingernail. "Prince or not... it's all rubbish."
"It's not rubbish!"
"It is so rubbish!"
"It's not... and if it is, then we've nothing to talk about! Anyway, I've got all this millet to husk!"
Cinderella turned away and sobbed. The lad thought for a second, then jumped from the fence into the yard.
"Here. Let me help with that."
"Push off."
"Oh, don't be like that! Offended her, now..."
Cinderella wiped her nose and tilted her chin up, measuring the lad with a disdainful glance.
"You don't know how, I thought?"
"You can teach me." The boy smiled uncertainly and stretched out his hand. "Peace?"
Cinderella sighed and clapped his palm.
"Peace."
The lad glanced at the sky. The sun was still high, but there was still an hour or two before midday. That was good, because he still had time to make it home. At noon exactly the enchanted lackeys would once more turn from rats to people, and all hell would break loose. And it'd be embarassing for the girl to see him in royal robes. She might decide he was teasing her again.
The prince had never husked millet or barley before. He really wanted to have a go.