Cinderella (Aschenputtel)

A rich man’s wife fell ill and called her only daughter to the bedside. “Be good and pious,” she said, “and heaven will help you; I shall look down on you from above.” She died; the girl went daily to the grave and wept, and stayed good and kind. When winter covered the grave with snow and spring had taken it off again, the man remarried.

The new wife brought two daughters of her own—fair in face, foul in heart. They took away her pretty clothes, dressed her in an old grey kirtle, and pushed her into the kitchen. From morning until night she worked—cooking, scrubbing, carrying heavy water-pails, making up fires. The sisters mocked her whenever they could and emptied peas and lentils into the ashes so that she must kneel and pick them out again. When the day was done she had no bed; she crept to the hearth and slept among the cinders. Because she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Ashputtel.

Once when the father went to the fair he asked what he should bring each girl. The stepsisters wanted fine clothes and jewels. Ashputtel asked only for the first twig that struck his hat on the way home. He bought the sisters’ gifts; a hazel twig brushed his hat, and he brought that to Ashputtel. She planted it on her mother’s grave and wept so that her tears watered it. The twig grew into a handsome tree; a little bird nested in it, and when she wished, the bird threw down whatever she asked.

The king announced a festival of three days so his son might choose a bride. The stepsisters were invited. Ashputtel begged to go too. “You, Ashputtel?” said the stepmother—“you who are dusty and dirty, and would go to the festival? You have no clothes and cannot dance; you would only be laughed at.” Yet when the girl kept asking, the woman poured a dish of lentils into the ashes and said: “If you can pick these all out in two hours, you may come.” Ashputtel went through the back door into the garden and called, “You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me pick the good into the dish, the bad into the crop.” Two white pigeons came in by the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and at last all the birds under heaven flocked and lit about the ashes. The pigeons nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, and then the others joined, and before the hour was up the lentils lay clean in the dish. She carried it to her stepmother, joyful, and believed she might go. “No, Ashputtel, you have no clothes and cannot dance; you would only be laughed at.” The woman flung two dishes of lentils into the ashes next and set an even shorter time. Again Ashputtel called the birds; again they finished the work. Still the stepmother said no, turned her back, and led her own daughters to the ball, leaving Ashputtel alone in the kitchen.

When they had gone, Ashputtel went to her mother’s grave. She stood beneath the hazel and called, “Silver and gold, fall over me like rain.” The bird threw down a gold and silver dress and slippers embroidered with silk. She put them on in haste and went to the feast. Her sisters and stepmother did not know her; they took her for some foreign princess, so beautiful did she look in her shining dress. The king’s son came to meet her, gave her his hand, and danced with her alone. He would dance with no other the whole evening. When it grew late she wished to go home. The prince said he would go with her, for he wanted to see where the beautiful maiden lived; but she escaped him and sprang into the pigeon-house. He waited until her father came, and told him the unknown maiden had vanished into the pigeon-house. The father thought, “Could it be Ashputtel?” and sent for axes and hatchets so they might cut it open. No one was inside. When they went back to the kitchen, there lay Ashputtel in her dirty clothes among the ashes; a dim oil-lamp burned on the mantel. She had jumped down on the far side of the pigeon-house, run to the hazel-tree, returned the fine clothes to the bird, and put on her grey kirtle again.

The next day, when the festival was renewed and her father, stepmother, and sisters had gone, Ashputtel went again to the hazel-tree and the bird dressed her more splendidly still. The prince had been waiting; he took her hand at once and danced with no one else. When evening came she meant to leave; he followed, hoping to see which house received her, but she ran into a garden behind the house and climbed a fine broad pear-tree. He waited for the father and said the maiden had slipped from him into the pear. “Could it be Ashputtel?” thought the man; they brought an axe and cut the tree down—empty. In the kitchen Ashputtel already lay among the ashes in her grey gown, for she had jumped down the far side, run to the bird, and given back the dress.

On the third day she asked the tree once more. The bird threw down a dress more magnificent than either before, and slippers of pure gold. At the feast the prince never left her side. When she fled at night he had the whole staircase smeared with pitch; her left golden slipper stuck fast. He took it up—small, dainty, all gold—and proclaimed he would marry only the maiden whose foot it fitted.

The eldest stepsister tried it in her chamber; the toe would not go in. Her mother handed her a knife: “Cut the toe off; when you are queen you will not need to walk.” She cut, forced the shoe on, and rode away. On the path the two birds on the hazel cried, “Blood is in the shoe—the true bride waits still!” The prince looked, saw the blood, and turned back. The second sister’s heel would not fit; the mother told her to cut a piece off. She did; the birds cried, “Blood again!”; the prince returned her too.

He asked the father if there was no other daughter. “Only a stunted Ashputtel from the first wife,” said the man—“she cannot be the bride.” The prince insisted. Ashputtel washed her face and hands and came. The slipper fitted as if made for her. When she stood up, the prince knew her as the dancer and cried, “She is my true bride!” The stepmother and sisters were pale with rage as he rode away with her. On the way to the wedding the birds flew down and struck out the false sisters’ eyes, so they were punished with blindness for the rest of their days.

Where this story comes from

“Cinderella” here is the Brothers Grimm’s German Aschenputtel, number 21 in Margaret Hunt’s 1884 translation, where she is the girl who sleeps in the ashes. It is not an Indian tale. The Project Gutenberg English based on Taylor and Edwardes calls her Ashputtel.

The Grimms put it together from three stories current in Hesse. Their note gives a Zwehrn version with a darker sequel: the false sister later throws the young queen into a well of blood in a forbidden room, and the sentries save her.

This is a combined retelling: the main English follows Taylor and Edwardes, while the ending where pigeons peck out the stepsisters’ eyes follows Margaret Hunt’s translation. The Taylor-based text stops without that blinding punishment. The toe and heel cutting is retained.

Read the original: Grimms’ Fairy Tales, tr. Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes (Project Gutenberg #2591, Ashputtel)

For older readers: this version includes cutting off parts of feet and permanent blinding, alongside family abuse and magical help.

Passing the test does not make the stepmother fair

Ashputtel completes the lentil tasks, but the promised invitation is withdrawn each time. The problem is not her effort: the rule-maker never intends to let her attend. Her father also fails to protect her and dismisses her when the prince asks about another daughter.

The birds help reveal the false claims to the slipper, then impose permanent injury. Those are different actions. Readers can welcome Ashputtel’s escape while questioning whether blindness is a proportionate punishment for her sisters.

Track the moving conditions

Write each condition the stepmother sets beside Ashputtel’s response and the resulting decision. Then compare that record with the slipper test. Who controls each test, and what makes its result accepted or ignored?

Talk about it

• How is the hazel tree on her mother’s grave connected to the help Ashputtel receives?
• Why do you think the stepsisters were willing to cut their own feet to fit the slipper?
• Do you think the stepsisters’ punishment was fair? Explain your answer.

Related stories

• Ashputtel — another retelling of the same Grimm tale under its older English name
• Mother Holle — a hard-working Grimm stepdaughter rewarded while her lazy sister is not
• Cat-Skin — a Grimm princess in disguise who works in a kitchen and dances at three balls