"Pedals"

"Oh," said the girl, looking at her shoes. "Wow. I mean, they're wonderful. Really. Thank you."

The fairy godmother's hand dropped to her side. "You don't like them," she said. Her wand dangled from her fingers like a broken branch.

"No. No-no-no-no, no," the girl said quickly. "They're beautiful. I mean, I've never even seen anything like them. It's just...." Here she gathered her apron and began twisting it. "I have concerns. About how they're going to hold up."

"Oh," said the fairy godmother, with a laugh that seemed to sprinkle glitter all over the ground of the garden. "Trust me, child, if ever a pair of slippers were made for a night of dancing, this pair would be it."

"Well, that's good. That's great. I do some dancing in my act sometimes. But I'm more worried about what'll happen if I start stomping on the pedals."

"The pedals?" the fairy godmother asked.

"Yeah. You know, when I play? On the piano?" The girl's fingers danced across an imaginary keyboard in front of her. "It's going to be the biggest audience ever in my life. All those royals there, and who knows who else will be listening? This could be my break, you know?" The girl looked at the tiny old woman, who floated in the air without much movement, like a bubble about to burst. "Why else did you think I'd want to go to the ball?" she asked.

The fairy godmother stared back for what seemed like a long time. "You're going to hate the dress," she finally said.