Cinderella Banquet Hand Spa
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The prince’s grand ball loomed, and Cinderella, desperate to attend, begged her fairy godmother for aid. With a flick of her wand, the godmother conjured a glittering gown and a pumpkin-turned-carriage, yet Cinderella’s hands—calloused and cracked from years of labor—remained stubbornly unchanged. “Magic cannot mend what time and toil have shaped,” sighed the godmother, her powers fraying at the edges. Undeterred, Cinderella dipped her hands into the enchanted carriage’s glowing interior, where the magic lingering on the pumpkin’s surface seeped into her skin. By dawn, her palms shimmered faintly, not with spellcraft, but with traces of stardust from the transformed gourd—a fleeting, whimsical disguise that faded by midnight but dazzled long enough to catch the prince’s eye as they danced.
