RANSVESTIA

"I have to finish this mess here. Anyway, I have no particular desire to put on a necktie and comb my hair and go down and watch all the girls in the country make asses of themselves in front of one of the crowned heads."

"Who ever heard about Cinderella in a necktie?” asked Wendell.

I burst out in an insane cackle just then, practically falling down on the grass.

“It wasn't that funny,” said Wendell.

“No? I just realized that it's all come true

Cinderella is busy in the back yard, hauling her own ashes" (Wendell stuck his tongue out in disapproval) when all of a sudden, 'Poof!' her fairy Godmother drops in."

“If you're going to start calling names, I'm going home," said Wen- dell with an injured tone in his voice.

"Don't forget your magic wand," I screamed, the tears rolling down my face.

"Sometimes, I don't know what I see in you,” said my guest.

"Nothing. I hope. You know I don't swing that way."

"That doesn't give you any right to call names. And another thing, I am not in the least interested in you in that way. I like men who look like men."

"That hurt." I said. "Fun's fun but you're hitting below the belt."

It was his turn to go into hysterics. When he finally quieted down, he said, "That makes it even, then?"

"Yeah― even." (But not quite. I hate being kidded about my size.)

"But you know, I was quite serious," he said. "How would you like to go to the Ball tonight? With very little effort, you could easily be the Belle of the Ball."

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