Episode 76 – Cinderella – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 76 Show Notes

Source: European Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’re getting down and dirty with one of the best-known stories ever told. You’ll see that you should never piss off magic fairies (or birds), that trees are almost as good as mothers, and that princes can’t recognize anybody. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see that even friendly hippos are jerks. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 76, “Cinderella”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Cinderella is one of the most famous stories ever told, one that has been adapted into over 100 film versions. The first was a short film from all the way back in 1899 by Georges Meiles and was a critical flop. Disney in particular loves to adapt and readapt this story, starting with a short film in 1922 that was later reimagined into the classic 1950 animated movie. Most of the movie versions are adaptations of Cendrillon ou la Petite Pantoufle de Verre, which translates roughly to Cinderella or The Little Glass Slipper, published in 1697 by French author Charles Perrault. It’s not the earliest version, but it is the one that introduces a lot of the elements we associate with the tale: the fairy godmother, the pumpkin carriage, and of course the namesake glass slipper. There’s a theory that the glass slipper was a mishearing of the word vair, which means squirrel’s fur, as verre, which means glass, but most scholars reject the idea since the former wasn’t really in use when Perrault was alive (kind of important). If you’ve seen literally any of the Disney versions of the movie, you already know the Perrault version. Therefore, let’s look instead at an earlier, more interesting version of the story.
The fairy tale collection Il Pentamerone, or the Tale of Tales, was published in volumes between 1634 and 1636. It’s a collection of folk and fairy tales by Italian poet and courtier Giambattista Basile, published by his sister Adriana after his death. We’ve already covered several stories from this collection, so it should come as no surprise that the Pentamerone also has the version of Cinderella that was the inspiration for Charles Perrault and the Grimm Brothers. That version is La Gatta Cenerentola or Cat Cinderella and is most likely the origin of the name Cinderella. The Italian word cenere means ash or cinder and refers to the servants and scullery maids who were stained with ash (which was used to scour out burned pots) and cinders (from sleeping close to the hearths in the cold basements for warmth).
As I’ve mentioned before, the Pentamerone is one of a number of stories that uses a frame narrative to weave together the many disparate tales of the collection. In this one, a cursed, melancholy princess named Zoza (which means mud or slime in Neapolitan but was used as a term of endearment the way someone today might call their best friend ‘bitch’) who cannot laugh. Her father sets up a fountain that spews oil hoping that making innocent people take wild pratfalls will make her laugh (hey, it worked for America’s Funniest Home Videos). Instead, an old woman tries to gather up the expensive oil for use and a page boy breaks her jug, enraging her so much that she hopped around screaming. This finally made Zoza laugh, and the old woman (who of course is also a witch) curses her to marry the prince of Round-Field who was in an enchanted sleep. She could only wake him by filling a pitcher of tears in three days. With the help of fairies, she pulls it off but falls asleep from exhaustion right before it’s all done. A Moorish slave steals it, finishes filling it, and pretends that she had done all the work herself (which is an eensy bit very racist). The slave princess gets pregnant and, thanks to some gifts from the fairies that Zoza got, she demands that her husband tell her stories or she’ll crush the fetus in her belly. The prince hires ten female story tellers to try and appease her and each tells five stories resulting in 50 stories over five days (hence the name of the collection, which comes from the Greek words for five and days). Zoza tells the final story and reveals the slave woman’s treachery, and she is punished by being buried up to her neck and left to die (still pregnant with the prince’s baby that he no longer cares about, mind you).
Once upon a time, there lived a prince whose wife had died years before (as is so often the case in fairy tales). He lived with his only daughter for a time, doting on her and cherishing his time with her as well as keeping a governess for her. The girl and the governess loved their time together learning knitting and lace-making and other appropriate pursuits for a young princess. Things went great until her father the prince met and married a new woman. The girl, who’s name was Zezolla, quickly became disenchanted with her new stepmother who was extremely cruel and developed an intense hatred of Zezolla. Each day, the wicked stepmother would torment the young girl with cruel looks and harsh words and each night, Zezolla would sob to her governess about the day’s abuses. She wished time and again that her beloved governess had become her stepmother instead of the vicious woman her father had married.
In time, the governess decided that something needed to be done. “I have an idea for how we can make that happen. If you listen to me and do what I say, I promise that I will be your mother and you will be as dear to me as the apple of my eye!” Zezolla hugged her governess and promised to do whatever she said was needed to get rid of her trouble. “Well then listen up and you will get bread as white as the flowers” (a phrase that means ‘you will get your wish’). “When your father goes out next, ask your stepmother to give you one of the old, ragged dresses that are kept in the large chest up in the attic. Make sure you hold the lid up while she rummages around in there and then BOOM! You slam the lid on her neck and kill her. Once she’s dead and cold, talk to your daddy. You know as well as I do that he would do absolutely anything for you, even print up fake money. If you talk me up, I’ll be your mama in no time and everything will be just peachy!”
The governess was asking a lot of the young woman she was supposed to be taking care of, but Zezolla was a strong, self-reliant kind of girl and so she thought long and hard about this conversation. After several long nights and even longer days, she decided to follow through. After that, it was a question of agonized waiting until her father went out of the country on some affair of state, giving her a chance to enact her plan. Eventually, that opportunity came and Zezolla straight up murdered her stepmom with a trunk lid. As soon as the period of mourning was over, she began to wheedle her father to think about marrying the governess, whose name happened to be Carmosina. The prince thought this was a very odd joke at first, but Zezolla brought it up so often and her arguments were so compelling that at long last, he was convinced. Zezolla’s father married Carmosina in a grand ceremony and made her Zezolla’s new mother.
The wedding feast lasted all day and well into the night, with drinking and dancing. Zezolla grew tired of the party and went to look out of a window of the house into the night. To her surprise, a dove flew up, perched on the wall, and began to speak to Zezolla. “If you ever have need of anything, send a message to the Dove of the Fairies on the island of Sardinia, and you will instantly have your wish.” There is absolutely no reason for this except to move the plot forward later. She has done nothing to deserve it, but hey – that’s what happens in fairy tales. Zezolla thanked the obviously magical bird and then went back to the party. Surely that’s just a normal thing, right?
For maybe five or six days, Carmosina was the most doting mother any girl could hope for. For the first time in years, Zezolla was actually happy. She was given lots of affection, seated in a place of honor at the dinner table, given the best food to eat, and dressed in actually new, nice clothes again. By the end of that first week however, the former governess revealed a huge secret – she actually had six daughters of her own that she had managed to conceal from everyone in the palace. Once she felt that her place had been secured and the marriage was going to stick, she moved her own daughters in and pushed Zezolla out. Any gratitude she should have felt to her stepdaughter for, you know, absolutely being instrumental in making her new life a reality was utterly forgotten.
In short order, Carmosina began to praise her own daughters and badmouth Zezolla. Given how highly his own daughter had spoken of his new wife, the prince was slowly convinced of Carmosina’s lies and bullshit until he practically forgot that he even had a daughter from his first marriage – only his new stepdaughters were ever considered in anything ever for any reason. Things went from bad to worse, and Zezolla quickly realized that she had made a huge fucking mistake, but it was too late. In short order, she was kicked out of her royal bedchamber and moved down to the kitchens, her fine clothes replaced with filthy rags. No longer was she a princess to be waited on but a servant to do the worst work. She even lost her royal name – no longer was she known as Zezolla, but as Cenerentola (basically the Italian version of Cinderella and for the same reason).
Poor Cenerentola spent what felt like forever toiling away in what used to be her own home, treated harshly by the people who had once served her. Carmosina remembered well how ruthless and cold-blooded her now-disgraced stepdaughter had been and didn’t give Cenerentola an opportunity to break her neck as well, staying well away from any heavy trunks. In time, the prince was again called away from his kingdom on affairs of state, this time to the island of Sardinia. Before he left, he called his children to him, asking his six stepdaughters – Imperia, Calamita, Fiorella, Diamante, Colombina, and Pascarella – what gifts he could bring back for them on his travels. One wished for beautiful dresses; another for a jeweled tiara; another expensive makeup; still another, fancy but useless baubles; in short, all six girls wanted extravagant gifts from their rich father.
Once he had doted on each of them in turn, he saw his own forgotten daughter standing there as well. Mockingly (he had now utterly bought into his new wife’s bullshit about the daughter he had once adored because he’s a real asshole), he asked Cenerentola what she would like to have – like he was going to get her anything at all. “Nothing, father – I ask only that you give my good wishes to the Dove of the Fairies and bid her send me something. It’s a simple request that will cost you nothing at all but I warn you father – if you forget to do this small thing for me, you will be unable to move forwards or backwards until you remember. So don’t forget, m’kay?”
Shrugging, the prince set out on his journey to Sardinia and immediately put any thought of his daughter’s strange request and even stranger warning out of his mind. He made the island with no difficulty and soon concluded his unspecified business there. That done, he went through the markets to procure all of the fancy, expensive things his six stepdaughters had asked him for. Naturally, he forgot all about Zezolla.
Having done everything he intended to do in Sardinia, the prince climbed back on his ship and commanded them to sail for home. Nothing happened. He commanded again, louder this time. Still, nothing happened. He ranted and railed and cursed, but he couldn’t make the ship do what he wanted. The captain despaired at this clearly supernatural problem. He had worked himself to the bone trying to figure out just what the fuck was going on here, but to no avail. Terrified that an angry prince was going to vent his frustration on the crew, the poor captain collapsed into his bed and fell into an exhausted slumber. No sooner had he done so than he dreamed. In this clearly magical dream, a fairy came to the captain. “Have you figured out why your ship won’t move? Why you can’t leave port? The prince you carry on board with you has broken his promise to his daughter. He has remembered everyone except his own blood, and he must remember.”
The captain awoke in the morning convinced (correctly) that this was no mere dream. He went straight to the prince and relayed the fairy’s message to him. The prince had not entirely forgotten how to not be a total shithead of a father and he was ashamed at his neglect of his daughter. Duly chastened, he went straight away to the Grotto of the Fairies to relay her good tidings and her request. In response, a beautiful maiden stepped out of the Grotto (which the prince had been sure was empty mere moments ago) and thanked his daughter for her good heart and kind words. She gave the prince a date tree, a hoe, a little golden bucket, and a silken napkin to take to his daughter. All were to be used to plant and water the little tree (and I was very recently informed that apparently date trees are extremely sensitive to moisture, and the silk cloth was used to keep them dry).
The prince marveled at this wonder and went back to the ship which, sure enough, could suddenly sail just fine. He headed home and soon was back in his own palace again. He doled out the gifts that he had bought for his six stepdaughters, all the things they had desired. Last of all, he gave the four gifts from the fairy to Zezolla along with the message from the clearly magical maiden. Zezolla was absolutely thrilled that the fairies had remembered her and answered her wish. She happily took the gifts and immediately went to plant the date tree in a pretty pot, hoeing the soil, watering the roots, and wiping the moisture from the leaves with the silk.
It was clearly a magical tree because, in only a few days, it had grown to full-size as tall as Zezolla herself. Out of this tree stepped a fairy, who spoke to Zezolla, asking her what she wished for. Zezolla thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to be able to leave the house without my sisters knowing I’m gone. It would be nice to be able to have some time to myself every now and again.” The fairy nodded in assent. “Granted. Whenever you desire this, come back to this flowerpot and say: my little date tree, my golden tree. With a golden hoe I have hoed thee. With a golden can I have watered thee. With a silken cloth, I have wiped thee dry. Now strip thee and dress me speedily! When you wish to undress and go back to normal, change the last verse to ‘strip me and dress thee.’”
Things went along like this for a while until not long thereafter a great feast was announced. The prince was of course invited, along with his wife and children. Having completely forgotten his lesson on the ship at Sardinia, Carmosina and the prince prepared to head to the king’s feast with the six stepdaughters but not Zezolla. She watched her stepfamily get all dressed up in fancy clothes and expensive ribbons, doused in the priciest perfumes. She waited patiently until everyone was out of the palace and then raced to the date tree. No sooner had she repeated the magical incantation that the fairy had taught her than she found herself dressed in a magnificent dress and seated on a prancing palfrey attended by 12 pages. She looked and felt every bit a queen. Delighted, Zezolla followed after her neglectful family to the ball.
Zezolla made quite the stir when she entered the palace where the grand ball was occuring. Everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor as this mysterious beauty swept into the party, especially her six stepsisters who were bitterly jealous of this graceful dove (who they did not recognize as their own stepsister. Somehow. I mean, all she did was put on a fancy dress so it doesn’t seem like they should have so much trouble recognizing her, but maybe the magic helped her stay hidden, since it’s explicit purpose was to help her sneak out undetected). As luck would have it, the king (who ruled over the entire kingdom containing the smaller princedoms like that of her father) was at this particular event. Like everyone else, he was taken aback by the grace and beauty of this strange woman (and the fairy glamour imbuing her magical clothes certainly didn’t hurt matters).
It wouldn’t be proper for the king to just waltz over and introduce himself, so he sent a trusted servant off to find out who this enchanting creature was and where she lived. For reasons that aren’t entirely clear, the servant decided that the best way to discover this information wasn’t to ask the young lady herself (although Zezolla would certainly have lied to him if he had), but to try and trail her in secret and discover her identity on his own. Zezolla was clever and observant, and she very quickly noticed her tail. She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of gold coins (which she had gotten from the date tree specifically in case she got into trouble and needed to bribe someone – or cause a distraction). The tinkle of coin on stone caught the servant’s ears and he hurried to light a lantern and collect the gold, allowing Zezolla to climb onto her horse and ride away undetected. Hey, servanting isn’t nearly lucrative enough to turn down free gold.
Zezolla hurried home and returned to the date tree to undress. Soon enough, she was back in her usual rags with no one the wiser about her adventure. Not long after, the wicked stepsisters returned to the palace furious at how the strange, unknown woman had captivated the assembled nobles. To try and regain their good spirits, they decided to torment Zezolla by telling her all about the incredible things they had seen at the ball. Zezolla pretended to be super envious, but inside she was laughing at their pitiful attempt.
Back at the royal palace, the servant (who now had pockets fat with gold) returned to the king to admit his failure. He told his sovereign all about her clever trick with the gold pieces. The king was…not impressed. He raged at the servant for having sold his honor for a few fucking pennies (it was a whole lot more than that, but the king is too rich to fully understand what money means to someone who doesn’t have, you know, literally everything). He demanded that his faithless servant find that woman again at the next ball and figure out where the pretty bird had its nest.
Time passed and it wasn’t long before another of the kingdom’s nobles hosted another ball. Once again, all of the kingdom’s wealthy and notable people showed up (including of course Zezolla’s wicked family). This time, everyone kept an eye out for the gorgeous woman who had made such a splash at the last party. Once again, as soon as everyone was out the door and off to the ball, Zezolla headed to the date tree and got all gussied up in her magical garments and entourage again. This time, she was accompanied by a bunch of ladies in waiting holding elegant mirrors, bottles of pumpkin water, curling irons, combs, pins, dresses, capes, and collars to dress her up even more splendidly than before. When they were done, she looked as beautiful as the sun itself and was hustled into a fancy carriage, attended by footmen and coachmen in livery. She rode to the ball in style and made another grand entrance, drawing every eye in the room. Most especially, she drew the eyes of the king, who had been waiting and hoping that she would come. The sight of her filled his heart with burning passion for her.
When the night drew to a close, Zezolla headed out once more and once more, the servant followed in her footsteps as secretly as he knew how. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t all that secretly (hey, he’s a servant, not a spy) and Zezolla quickly noticed that she was being followed again. Given what had happened before, she had expected something like this and had come prepared. Gold had done the trick last time but she had a feeling that she would need to up the stakes to make good on her escape again. Reaching into her purse, she drew out a handful of pearls and jewels, a small fortune. The servant, having been threatened by the king, had steeled himself to ignore gold, but rare jewels were another matter. This was more money than he was likely to ever hold in his hands and he couldn’t let that opportunity pass him by. Rushing as quickly as he could, he scooped up the riches but Zezolla raced out of sight during the short delay and again vanished into the night.
The servant reluctantly went back to the king to again admit failure. He was about to be in a shit-ton of trouble, but he’d been well-paid for it so he gritted his teeth and went to take his licks. The king was exactly as furious as the servant had feared. His rage towered even higher than before, and he thundered at the servant ‘by the souls of my ancestors, if you don’t find out who she is, I’ll have your ass beaten bloody and, to make sure you never disobey me again, I’ll give you as many kicks as you have hairs in your fucking beard! DO NOT FAIL ME AGAIN!”
More time passed and soon enough, another ball was announced. The six wicked stepsisters, the prince, and the wicked stepmother headed out to dance the night away and Zezolla followed after. Her carriage this time was made of solid gold and she was attended by so many fine servants that she looked like a veritable queen. As before, the servant followed after her when she went to leave, but this time he didn’t bother trying to be stealthy. He wasn’t willing to risk the king’s very real threats of violence and so he was going to stay closer to her ass than her own clothes. He was too close for her to try rummaging in her purse for something more extravagant than before (if that would even have worked on him), so she had to try to outrun him. Her heavy gown made that a challenge, but she did manage to make it to her carriage before him, climb in, and order the coachman to get the fuck out of here right the hell now.
At her orders, he snapped the reins and the carriage raced down the road. This being an age before shocks were invented, that kind of speed made for one bumpy-ass ride. Zezolla was bounced around inside, roughly enough that one of her slippers came off her foot and flew out the window. It was a truly stunning slipper, more beautiful than any shoe she’d ever owned, and Zezolla hated to lose it but she hated the thought of being caught even more. She didn’t know what this servant wanted from her, but she wasn’t willing to hang around and find out. Being a servant (even a noble-born one) in disguise at a ball could be big trouble if anyone ever found out.
The panting servant chased after the fleeing carriage, but he was no match for a team of horses and they quickly pulled away from him. Huffing and puffing (and hoping the exertion didn’t give him a heart attack), he headed back towards the palace to once again admit failure (although at least this time, it wasn’t from lack of trying). As he walked, he spotted the rich, beautiful shoe lying abandoned by the road and took it back to the king as proof of his earnest effort.
Handing the shoe over to the king, the royal forgave his servant for his failure. He was far too entranced by the stunning beauty of this shoe to be mad. “If even the basement is so beautiful, then what must the rest of the palace be like? O lovely candlestick, where is your candle that lights my soul aflame? O tripod where the heat of life boils! O beautiful cork fastened to the fishing line of love that has caught my heart and won’t let me go!” Which is kind of an odd way to describe the woman you’re infatuated with, but not the worst we’ve ever encountered by a long shot.
He hugged the shoe as though it were Zezolla herself. “I embrace you, my heart, for if I cannot reach the flowers then I shall at least kiss the roots; if I cannot climb to the heights of the column, I shall embrace the base. You were the prison for that delicate white foot and are now the chains binding a lovesick heart.” Maybe the foot fetish jokes people make about Cinderella’s prince are true.
Having made out with the shoe, just a little, he called his secretary to him and commanded his trumpeter to sound a proclamation: all the women of the country were to come to a feast and banquet to be held by the king himself. He planned to outdo the past three balls where he had met the woman he loved (who, bear in mind, he’s never so much as spoken to or even danced with at this point). He imported every rich and exotic food he could think of until he had enough food for an army. Or a kingdom.
Everyone came to this grand feast, rich and poor, noble and common, young and old. Once everyone was at least a little tipsy and in a good mood, he gathered all the women together to try on the magical slipper. He was hoping to identify which woman it fit perfectly. One by one, every woman at the party tried it on, but none was a perfect fit and none was the beauty who had ensnared the king’s imagination. As time wore on and the feet continued not to fit, the king began to despair of ever finding the mystery woman. The night wore on and soon there was only one more foot to try. No match. She wasn’t here. Depressed, the king decided he wasn’t quite ready to give up. He called for silence and then ordered that everyone come back again tomorrow for another fabulous supper. “Bring every woman in your homes. Every. Woman. All of them. Don’t leave a single goddamned female type person behind, no matter what. I mean it.” Zezolla’s father cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay but, um – you don’t actually mean like every girl, right? See, I’ve got this daughter I guess, but she’s a filthy servant who lives on the hearth and is absolutely not worthy to be in your royal presence and I wouldn’t want to offend you by bringing her raggedy ass. She’s stupid and graceless and unworthy to eat at your table.” “Did I fucking stutter? Every. Woman. In fact, your daughter will now be the first one on the list tomorrow. Got it?”
Everyone shut up and nodded that yes, they understood the king’s very clear and explicit instructions. The next day, the prince returned with Carmosina’s daughters, but also with Zezolla (though this time without her magical regalia). Even without the finery, the king knew that he had found his mystery woman as soon as he laid eyes on Zezolla. He kept this hope to himself however so that the test could play out without his desires influencing things. He knew he could be seeing what he wanted to see and needed to be sure before committing himself to anything. He held his tongue all through the feast until it was time for the slipper fitting to begin again.
The servant carried the slipper towards Zezolla but, even before he could reach her, the slipper levitated up off the pillow it was sitting on and zipped across the room (much to the surprise of the assembled nobles who hadn’t expected a fucking flying magic shoe because who would) and landed itself on Zezolla’s well-turned foot (which was every bit as sexy as the king had fantasized because I’m now convinced that he has a thing for feet). He ran to her immediately and asked her to join him under the royal canopy. Zezolla agreed, either because this was too good an opportunity to pass up or because she had been observing the king for the last few banquets and had decided he was a good man and would make a good husband, maybe both. He had her crowned immediately, and all the assembled nobility bowed down and paid homage to their new queen.
The six wicked stepsisters nearly choked on their spite and rage at this shocking turn of events. As soon as they were legally able to leave, they fled the palace and returned to Carmosina to tell her that the girl they all hated (for no reason at all, honestly) was now the queen. They confessed to their mother that only a madman resists the stars (which is clearly intended as the moral of the piece). The assembled guests who are listening to the tale back in the frame story all love the good fortune of the girl Zezolla, but are frustrated at how easily the wicked stepsisters get off. Hell, they don’t even really get punished!
The Grimm Brothers version seeks to rectify this particular oversight as one of several changes they make to the story. The German brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm published their own version of the story, known as Aschenputtel, in 1812, revising it repeatedly over the 17 later editions published between 1812 and 1864. This is the version used for the Sondheim stage musical (and movie adaptation) Into the Woods and is much bloodier and more brutal than the Perrault story. Like Zezolla, their Cinderella does not ask her father for fancy gifts, unlike her wicked stepsisters. Instead of a random fairy greeting though, she asks only for the first branch that brushed against her father’s hat on his way home (since it would mean he was on his way back and therefore would be a symbol of Cinderella’s wish come true). He brings her back a hazel tree twig, which she plants at the grave of her dead mother and waters it with her tears until it grows into a massive tree. Instead of the fairy living in the tree, a white bird (possibly a spirit sent by her mother or her mother’s spirit itself) came to live in the tree and would fetch anything Cinderella asked for. The animated Disney movie lifts another addition, the false bargain, straight from Grimm.
Cinderella repeatedly asks her stepmother if she too can go to the ball that the prince has announced, and she eventually agrees to let the filthy girl go on one condition. The wicked stepmother empties a large bowl of lentils into the ashes and says that, if Cinderella can pick them out again in two hours, she can go to the ball. This was of course an impossible task for anyone who hasn’t made special friends with woodland creatures. Naturally, Cinderella has of course done just that and gets help from the birds of the sky, who pick out the lentils for her. The wicked stepmother is shocked at her success and refuses to let her come, saying she has no clothes and doesn’t know how to dance (because your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance then they’re no friends of mine).
Cinderella goes from overjoyed to crushed at this news and begins to cry. The stepmother may be wicked, but she’s not utterly heartless. She tells Cinderella to stop crying and empties two bowls of lentils into the ashes (why she has multiple bowls of lentils just lying around is never explained). If she can pick all of them out in just one hour, she can go. For realsies this time. She walks away, certain that she’s really asking the impossible this time. The birds help out again and, shocker, the wicked stepmother is, well, wicked and refuses to honor the bargain. She tells Cinderella that she would embarrass the family with her shabby clothes and lame dance moves and simply cannot come.
Once stepmother and stepdaughters (now down to the usual two) leave for the ball, Cinderella rushes out to her mother’s grave tree to ask for shoes and a dress. The white bird somehow manages to flap around with a heavy dress of gold and silver and a pair of silk slippers embroidered with silver (insert the bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail about swallows carrying coconuts here) and off to the ball she goes. Her family doesn’t recognize her (and there’s no fairy magic to explain it this time), so they think her a foreign princess. The prince was enchanted with Cinderella and danced with her all night – and only her, which was a tad rude of him. He offered to escort her home at the end of the night, wanting to see where she lived and having a more hands-on approach than Zezolla’s king. She didn’t want him to know she was a serving girl, so after walking home with him she jumped into the pigeon coop to hide, locking herself in.
The prince waited there for her to come out, but she didn’t. Eventually, her father wandered out and the prince told him that the woman he was with had jumped into the pigeon coop for some reason. Could he please help get her out? I mean, she gave you a pretty clear signal to leave her alone, dude. He’s being a little bit possessive here. The father wonders if the mystery girl is Cinderella (because who else would jump into their pigeon coop) but says nothing. He fetches an axe and a pick to break open the wooden structure, but it is somehow empty. It turned out that Cinderella had shimmied down the back in the darkness and rushed back to the hazel tree to get back in her usual rags. By the time anyone made it to the house, she was back in her usual spot at the hearth.
They repeat the whole process with a second ball, with Cinderella following after in her dead mom tree dress. The prince waited for her arrival this time and, as soon as she showed up, he took her hand and once again danced only with her. Again, when the night came to an end, the prince escorted her home and she made a break for it to try and protect her secret identity. The prince was prepared for her trickery (although I don’t know if ‘run away real fast’ is really that clever) and had laid a trap. While they had been dancing, he’d had the staff smear the stairs with pitch (a thick, sticky substance) to stop her in her tracks. Cinderella was very determined to get away (the prince doesn’t know how to accept a ‘no’ answer) and so she left one of her shoes there stuck to the stairs and made good her escape. The prince retrieved the stuck shoe, small and made this time of pure gold, and declared that his wife would be the woman whose foot fit the shoe.
Having lost the girl in the pigeon coop once already, he headed for Cinderella’s house first thing in the morning. The two wicked stepsisters were thrilled at the news and resolved that, no matter what it took, they would wear that shoe and marry the prince. The animated Disney movie plays this next scene for laughs, but as you’ll see, it would have satisfied the crowds listening to the tale of Zezolla who thought the wicked stepfamily got off too easily. With her mother, the older girl took the shoe into a bedroom to try it on. She tried to force it onto her foot but her big toe refused to go in, no matter how she strained. Her mother snarled and handed her a small knife. “Cut off your toe. Once you’re queen, you won’t need to walk anymore.”
Hand shaking, the young woman took the knife, steeled herself with one deep breath, and cut off her toe. Agony shot through her, but her mutilated foot was now small enough to be shoved into the small shoe. She swallowed her pain and hobbled out to marry the prince. Seeing the shoe on her foot (and having no capacity to recognize the woman he has spent the last two nights face to face with) he accepts the eldest stepdaughter as his bride. My personal theory is that he’s face blind. I am, and if I met someone new who dressed a certain way the first two times I met them and then a different way the next, I also wouldn’t be sure if I knew them, so it tracks.
He helped her up onto his stallion and they rode off into the morning to be married. The road happened to pass by the grave of Cinderella’s mother, where the semi-magical birds lived. As the pair rode passed, two pigeons sitting in the tree cried out at them. “Dude, seriously? Look at the shoe. Like, really look at it. There’s blood. A disturbing amount of blood, actually. That shoe doesn’t fit because that’s not your bride. Try again.” The prince glanced down at the woman’s foot and, sure enough, it was just gushing blood. I mean, they hadn’t done anything to bandage up the toe she just hacked off, so the shoe was just full of blood. He wheeled the horse around and rode back to the house to try a different foot.
He told the family that this was clearly not the woman he had danced with, so would the other girl like to try the shoe on? I really hope they cleaned out the fresh blood, but honestly who knows. The younger stepsister took the shoe, went into the bedroom with her mother, and tried it on. Her toes went in easily enough, but her heel refused to slip inside. Grunt and groan though she might, she couldn’t quite get the shoe on. With another snarl, the wicked stepmother (having learned absolutely nothing from what had just happened) grabbed the bloody knife and gave it to her younger daughter. “Cut off your heel. Once you’re queen, you won’t need to walk anymore.” Having also learned nothing from the example of her sister (or maybe just being terrified of her wicked mother), the younger girl took the knife and, hand shaking, cut off a chunk of her heel. Agony shot through her, but her mutilated foot was now small enough to be shoved into the small shoe. She swallowed her pain and hobbled out to marry the prince. Seeing the shoe on her foot, the prince (who has also learned absolutely nothing from the previous exchange) accepted her as his bride, helped her up onto his stallion, and they rode off into the morning to be married.
Fortunately, the road still led by the graveyard, and the watchful magic birds were still there to chide the prince. “Dude, seriously. What the fuck? I mean, we get not checking too close the first time, but surely it must have occurred to you that this sister might also have butchered her foot to fit the shoe, right? No? Look at her shoe. See the blood? That’s not leftover blood, that’s new blood. This girl ain’t your bride either, bro. Try one more time.” He looked down, saw gushing blood pouring out of the shoe yet again, and rode back to Cinderella’s house yet again. “No, this isn’t the right girl either (and you have a real problem with torturing your own children – it’s real fucked up). Is there someone else?” Cinderella’s father and stepmother try to stop the inevitable just the way Zezolla’s parents had . “I mean, kind of, but it’s just deformed, ugly, stupid Cinderella from my first wife. You don’t want her. She’s filthy. And ugly.” The prince told them to shove it and forced them to bring the girl out. She took off her wooden shoe and, lo and behold, the golden slipper fit perfectly. He lifted her onto his horse and rode off to be married to the right girl this time (with an approving chorus from the birds as they went past). The two pigeons flitted down and sat down on her shoulders and then just kind of stayed there.
When the wedding day came, the two wicked stepsisters showed up to try and pretend they were all a happy family (and win some political favors from their newly powerful sibling). As they walked into the church, the pigeons (who were still hanging around) flew down and each pecked out one eye from one of the sisters. After the wedding (which the two girls actually attended, horrifying eye wound or no), the pigeons again attacked the girls as they left, pecking out the remaining eyes. Thus were the two wicked stepsisters punished for their cruelty and deceit. Weirdly, nothing happens to the wicked stepmother, who was the worst of the lot by a long shot, so there’s some of the punishment that the Pentemarone audience wanted, but also still plenty to be mad about, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s heroine is Rhodopis.
The earliest known Cinderella-style story comes from ancient Egypt by way of Greece. Greek geographer Strabo wrote down the tale of Rhodopis, referencing the lost works of the historian Herodotus from the 6th Century BC. Even that far back, most of the classic story elements are already in place.
Long ago in the land of Egypt near the Nile River, there lived a girl named Rhodopis. She had been born in Greece, but as often happened, she had been kidnapped by pirates and sold into slavery in Egypt. Her master was a kind old man, but he spent much of his time sleeping under a tree, so he never saw how the other slaves abused poor Rhodopis for being different, calling her names and making her do all the hardest work. They mocked her for having curly golden hair instead of beautiful straight black hair, for having green eyes instead of their brown, and for having pale skin that burned easily in the harsh sun instead of their lustrous copper skin. She had no friends but the local animals; she had trained the birds to eat from her hands, had a monkey who would sit on her shoulder, and even an old hippo who would slide up onto the mud to hang out with her. This last is by far the most impressive because, if you don’t know, hippos are extremely ornery and territorial, and they will absolutely murder you for being in the wrong place. In pretty much every version, Cinderella has a way with animals. When she had the energy left, she would go down to the riverbank to visit her animal friends, and she would sing and dance for them.
She was dancing out in the quiet one night when the old master woke up and happened to see her twirling. He admired her skill and beauty and figured that no one who was that good a dancer should have to go barefoot. He ordered a pair of beautiful slippers for her made of the finest leather gilded in rose gold. They were excellent shoes, far nicer than anything any of the other slave girls had, and they all hated her even more for her shoes.
One day, word came that the Pharaoh was holding court in the city of Memphis, and that all of his people were invited to attend the festival. Rhodopis wanted desperately to go, because she knew there would be singing and dancing and incredible food she’d never had before. Just as the other slave girls were heading out, they gave Rhodopis a bunch of additional chores to be completed before they all returned, dashing her hopes of going. They poled away down the river, leaving poor Rhodopis all alone to weep. She was a dutiful girl and so she began to wash the clothes in the river as they had instructed, singing a sad work song to herself as she did. Hippo grew annoyed with this dirge and wallowed back into the water, dousing her slippers in the process.
Worried that the water would ruin them, Rhodopis took them off and set them in the sun to dry. Out of the sky swooped a falcon, who stole one of her shiny slippers and flew away. The falcon was the sacred bird of the sky god Horus (the hieroglyph for his name was a falcon) and so the slave girl knew that it was Horus himself who had stolen her shoe. She didn’t know why, but she slipped the other shoe into her tunic for safekeeping just the same.
Over in Memphis, the Pharaoh was sitting on his throne, looking over his people, and feeling very bored with all the pomp and circumstance. He would much rather be riding his chariot out in the wide expanse of the desert. Suddenly, a falcon dove out of the sky and dropped a slipper in his lap. He was understandably surprised, but he knew this to be a sign from Horus. He sent out a decree that the girl who fit the slipper would be his new queen. He sets out at once, which means that by the time the cruel slave girls arrive, the party is already over and the pharaoh is already gone in search of his bride.
He searched the kingdom on land with no luck, so he set out on the Nile to try there. He came to the home where Rhodopis lived, and all the slave girls rushed out to try on the shoe. As soon as they saw it, they knew who it belonged to but they said nothing. Instead, each tried to shove her foot into the tiny shoe, but all failed. Rhodopis meanwhile hid in the rushes, afraid to join the other girls. The Pharaoh saw her hiding and called to her to come and try it on. Naturally, it fit like it was made for her because it was. She then pulled the other shoe out of her tunic, confirming beyond any doubt that it was her shoe. He announced that she would be his queen, and the slaves protested that she was a slave too and not even Egyptian! The pharaoh declared that she was the most Egyptian of all – her eyes were as green as the Nile, her hair as feathery as papyrus, and her skin as pink as a lotus flower (which may be an attempt to legitimize the later Ptolemaic dynasty). Thus were they married happily ever after.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
I forgot to mention it in the wild shuffle of getting ready for two conventions in a row, but I guested on the Reaper’s Digest podcast discussing my short story The Library. I had a blast with Blake and Duke talking about the writing process, horror, and of course craft beer. Reaper’s Digest Episode 8 is available wherever you get your podcasts, so check it out!
Next time, we’re off to the Nile River for alcoholic goodness in a listener request story. You’ll see that even animals like to get wasted, that your eye can get jealous, and that worshiping evil serpents is usually a bad idea. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s the bird that’s its own daddy. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.