Book 1 Chapter 3
As the middle-sized ogre, Laura, cleaned cobwebs around the chandelier, Cinderella poked
her head in the dining room door and called, “Mind the candles. They’ll singe
your . . .”
“Ouch!” Laura cried.
“Skin.” Cinderella finished
her sentence. Too late.
Stephanie and Heather crowded close to their sister to inspect the
burn. Laura had been grasping the chain that held the chandelier. Now, tiny red
marks made a row on her forearm.
Heather turned her back to the chandelier as she soothed her
sister and in doing so, bumped the chandelier with her shoulder. The light
fixture swung away and then bumped back into her, lighting the end of a strand
of hair on fire. She squeaked and tripped into her sisters.
All three girls lost their balance.
Heather, the tallest of them, grabbed for the only thing that
might have kept her standing – the hoop from the old chandelier. It separated
from the ceiling with a puff of dust and a rain of splinters.
Down they all fell in a heap, laughing all the way. Luckily, the
flame in Heather’s lock of hair went out on the way down, leaving only a funny
smell in the air. The girls, cobwebbed fingers, iron hoop and all, lay on the
floor in a messy, giggling heap.
