nd I sat on a felled tree to read it, because I never read standing up.

    Dear Margaret,old you about.

    I ried to finis, and find t I cannot. And so tory t t must do as it is. It is a flimsy t w you will.

    As for titles, t springs to my mind is “Cinderella’s C I knoe enoug readers to understand t , it itle in t  be mine.

    ture. No name.

    But tory.

    It ory of Cinderella, like I’d never read it before. Laconic, er’s sentences hal.

    Picture tory begins. A boy and a girl; one ric often it’s t no gold and t’s  is in tory I’m telling. t o be a ball. A o stumble into eacime t t of time tory is about me of times. Our girl’s pumpkin is just a pumpkin, and ser midnigticoats, violated. tman at tomorroupid. S, though.

    In t of tory, Cinderella gives birto a girl, raises y and filter a feor. tory ends abruptly.

    o before, cold and  leads into t. It remains ajar. Is  still? A, to tle  ser.  even be someto eat.

    ttle house?

    Door? Or house?

    tates.

    Sates…

    And tory ends there.

    Miss inter’s earliest memory? Or just a story? tory invented by an imaginative co fill t to have been?

    teentale. tory.

    I read tory and grieved.

    Gradually my ts turned aer and to myself. S not be perfect, but at least I  too late to make somet t ory.

    I put tood up and brus from my trousers before o the road.

    I o e tory of Miss inter’s life, and I . to fulfill terms of tract. One copy of t is to