I found my partner, and I would dance with no other. But she kept escaping the party. Now at least, I have her slipper. It is small, dainty and golden. It can only belong to her, and I have am going to try it on every young woman in the country until I find her.
I arrive at the house of a man I recognize. I spoke with him at the dance. He has two daughters and the eldest steps forward. She grabs the slipper, insisting that it belongs to her, and takes it into another room. Her mother follows. A little while later, the girl comes out, slightly wincing and hobbling towards me with a stiff smile on her face. “See,” says her mother, “The shoe fits. You have found your bride.” I don’t recognize the girl, but I take her hand, and I lift her up on my horse. As we ride out through the gate, we pass a grave and a hazel tree. Two pigeons are sitting on the tree, and I can hear them speaking.
“Turn and peep, turn and peep, there’s blood upon the shoe…”
I look down and see blood trickling from the girl’s foot. I have the horrific thought that she’s cut off her big toe to make the shoe fit. I turn the horse around and return to the house.