Cinderella had planted a branch at the grave of her Mother,
and many tear had watered it until it had become
a handsome tree.
I've been good and I've been kind, Mother,
Doing only what I learned from you.
Why then am I left behind, Mother,
Is there something more that I should do?
What is wrong with me, Mother?
Something must be wrong.
Do you know what you wish?
Are you certain what you wish
Is what you want?
if you know what you want,
Then make a wish.
Ask the tree,
And you shall have your wish.
Shiver and quiver, little tree,
Silver and gold throw down on me.
I'm off to get my wish...