September 2026

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No Red Shoes, No Glass Shoes, No New Shoes at All: A drama in one act by Niddie Bone

Cast of Characters

PRINCESS ELLIE: 25 years old, a woman who has known ups and downs in life and is accustomed to both hard work and luxury

INGE SPARROW: Around 20 years old in human form, formerly known for cruelty, recently incarcerated, currently a bird

KAREN NOTTELMANN: 16 years old, raised on a hardscrabble farm before being adopted by Angebirga of Lilleby, now living without feet

THE STRANGER: TBD

Place

The shoemakers’ guildhouse, Lilleby Village

Time

Midsummer, in any era that feels relevant, from the Middle Ages to the next war

ACT I

Setting: The stage is set with long, bare wooden worktable, behind which sits a wooden bench almost equally long. Other tables and benches hold shoes in various stages of creation and repair, as well as lasts, mallets, needles, bits of leather, velvet, buckles, wooden soles, leather soles, etc. A heavy wooden door reinforced with iron stands shut at stage left.

At Rise: The three women sit behind the table. The ends of their legs are clearly visible. Princess ELLIE’s feet are in elaborate court pumps; KAREN’s legs end in stumps, optionally wrapped in bloodied bandages; INGE’s feet are, naturally, claws. If played by a human, her lower body should be concealed at the beginning in a dark cloth, and she should attach bird legs and claws to her torso, resting them on the table. ELLIE is in the middle with a gavel and a stack of papers or parchment—or a laptop, as appropriate.

ELLIE

(Clears her throat)

I hereby call to order this session of the summer court of appeals concerning the fate of one Raspina Nattogdag, who was drowned in a bog for crimes against the shoemakers’ guild of Lilleby. She has been convicted of diverting business, preying on elders, knowingly causing addictive behavior, and fraudulently purveying wares made by other hands.

It is now proposed, by petition, that Nattogdag’s body be raised and examined for signs of life. The case has been reopened for new testimony to be provided by Inge Sparrow, who has recently returned to the village as a bird. Also present is Karen Nottelmann. I, Princess Ellie de Bourg, will preside.

First to speak is Inge Sparrow. (Nodding to INGE.) Were you aware of Miss Nattogdag when you arrived in the village?

INGE

I had heard of Raspina, yes. The fact that there were three shoemakers inside the walls made Lilleby seem as grand as a city to me. Copenhagen, you know, or Odense. I’d heard that if you walk down the street in one of those cities, you eventually see everybody you’ve ever met. And they’re all wearing shoes—a different pair for every day of the week. That’s a big difference from the forest where I lived.

KAREN

As I said at the trial, I’d never heard of Raspina Nattogdag. At least, I wouldn’t have recognized her name. I was interested in the shoes, not whoever had made them.

INGE

But by now everyone knows Raspina and wants to buy her shoes. Whether or not you think she deserved what happened, maybe you have an opinion about whether other young people should be allowed to wear her work.

And I’m just going to say right off, I don’t think she deserved it.

KAREN

I’m still angry.

ELLIE

I’m officially neutral, so I’ll keep my opinions to myself for a while.

INGE

I’ve spent more time with her than either one of you. And I think you need to open your minds. We should bring Raspina up to talk it over.

KAREN

But Raspina is dead. I saw her thrown into the bog myself.

INGE

She is dead, sure, but only in a preliminary technical way, not in the sense of ever-after. She might be wakened—

ELLIE

You need royal approval for waking the dead. Especially one of the bog-dead.

INGE

Isn’t that why we’re here? To tell our stories and get that approval?

KAREN

Right. So I’ll go first.

I didn’t exactly arrive barefoot, you know. Before my mother died, she gave me a pair of badly made red shoes. They were the clumsiest pig leather, dyed with the juice of a beet, but those shoes are probably the reason that old lady Angebirga decided to adopt me—your feet say everything about you. And of course I couldn’t have been more excited when she said she’d buy me a proper pair, nicely cobbled with finest red leather and satin.

I don’t even remember meeting the shoemaker then, just seeing the shoes. So shiny, so truly red. When I put them on, my feet started dancing right away. I was never the most graceful, but suddenly I was dancing for hours and in perfect time. You can hardly blame me for not wanting to take them off. I was popular! Especially at the Midsummer dances, which Angebirga didn’t even want me to attend. She felt they were too close to the solstice, if you can believe that. Saint Hans Eve practically is the solstice—in fact, it’s barely two days off, so if anyone wants new shoes, or feet, in time for the rituals—

ELLIE (INTERRUPTING)

But you did take the shoes off eventually.

KAREN

Well, obviously. I grew tired. So I got them off once—barely—and then I swore I wouldn’t put them on again—

INGE

But you chose to do so.

KAREN

Yes, I did. And you don’t have to sound holier-than-thou about it—you know what happened to me in the end! When you have something that pretty, you don’t just leave it sitting around. Plus which, my new mother had given the shoes to me, and she liked to see me wearing them.

ELLIE

Except to church.

KAREN

She wanted me in my regular brown brogues then, like all the other good girls. So Raspina made me a pair of those too. They were ordinary in every way—it’s not as if I couldn’t stop praying when I had them on.

ELLIE

They were new, though, correct?

KAREN

Yes, brand-new.

ELLIE

Did you watch her make them herself?

KAREN

Why would I do that? No, I told her about the snug fit on the red ones, and she took my measurements again, and then I went home. She sent the brogues over the next morning and my mother paid her.

INGE

Wait. Something just occurred to me. Did both of you get your Raspina shoes as a gift from someone else? An older woman?

ELLIE (RELUCTANT TO ADMIT)

My godmother. Why?

INGE

Just looking for a pattern. I got mine from my adoptive mother too. The old ladies must be up to something. We should bring them in. Better yet, let’s haul Raspina up and have her talk to them.

ELLIE

We’re keeping it at this table for now. Why don’t you tell your story? Tell us where you came from and how you got your shoes. Were you also a dancer?

INGE

Everyone knows I came from the forest. And I had plenty of hard years before I got to Lilleby, believe me—we had no time for dancing or feasting or observing a solstice. My birth mother made a living by gathering kindling. We had nothing.

ELLIE

From what I’ve heard, you didn’t help her. Weren’t you were known as the girl who pulled the wings off flies?

INGE

Yes, exactly! Those were the only toys we could afford! But it was a long time ago. I’ve changed.

KAREN

Right, now you’re a bird. You barely eat a crumb, and you fly around doing good works. You were actually more interesting before.

ELLIE

You could have saved your ashes for making glass, Inge. That’s how I earned money when I was poor, scraping fireplaces and selling the ashes …

INGE

My mother sent me away to find a better life.

KAREN

And you found it in Lilleby? With Raspina?

INGE

She was part of it, yes. Her shoes were much nicer than anything my first mother could have afforded. They weren’t red, though, or glass—they were just good black shoes. Like Karen’s brogues.

KAREN

But they’re the reason.

INGE

For what?

ELLIE

Why you fell in love with Raspina.

INGE

Um … What about you and those glass slippers? Didn’t you fall in love right away?

ELLIE

Oh. Yes. I mean, who wouldn’t? They were pure magic. They looked as if they would break, but then they didn’t. Not even when— I mean, I fell in love with the shoes. Not with the shoemaker. I love the Prince.

KAREN

I remember seeing you in them that night. How they sparkled under the chandeliers! And your skirts flounced up when the Prince twirled and dipped you, and the shoes were always perfect. And clean! They never even misted up when your feet got hot. I remember thinking that Raspina had finally figured something out, because they weren’t wearing thin like my shoes did.

Not that you noticed me, because I was at the edge of the crowd, with the rest of the plebs and servants. But I danced just as much as you did, really. I went all night. It was a long time to dance with blisters and bloody feet.

ELLIE

I left at midnight. Everything my godmother had given me changed back into something ordinary. The slipper on my foot was ash and sand again. Not as durable as you thought.

INGE (KINDLY)

But the shoe you left behind stayed itself. I think Raspina did that as a favor, breaking your godmother’s spell so that something would remain and give you a future.

KAREN

I danced with the Prince after you disappeared, you know. He put your slipper in his pocket and went back inside and danced again.

ELLIE

(Making a note on the document before her.)

That was the first pair of shoes I ever owned. And the only ones till the wedding. How often did you girls get new ones?

KAREN

At the height of my dancing, I needed a fresh pair every morning. I just never had a rest, and dancing without arch support was painful. Raspina always made sure I had my shoes, even if she stayed up all night to make them.

ELLIE

Remember, the first court of trial was not sure she was the one staying up to do it.

INGE

Based on what those elves said?

ELLIE

The more popular her shoes got in the village—and that was thanks to the three of us, you know; we were good advertising—the more shoes she sold, the harder it was for her to keep up with demand. So those elves just showed up. Then she was able to go to bed and wake in the morning with four, five, six new pairs of shoes all sewn and waterproofed. And the quality seemed about as good as anything she made herself.

KAREN

Every time I got new shoes, I could dance again. I felt I could keep going forever. It was what I wanted to do … until it wasn’t.

INGE

Did that seem like elven magic to you?

KAREN

Maybe, but not in a bad way, not at first. Not as magical as Ellie’s glass shoe—that was obviously enchanted. I remember the Prince himself going from house to house, and not just in Lilleby. He was so proud of that shoe, thought it was really something.

ELLIE

He was looking for the foot that would fit it. Which, honestly, a number of feet would have done. The slipper … I suppose I would say it was drawn to me. Maybe because I had harvested the ashes that went into the glass.

I don’t think that was elven magic, though. The elves would have had no motive for something like that. Especially not around Midsummer—there are always plenty of silly people who tempt fate at a crossroads that night, so it’s the easiest time of year for catching a human, if they want to bring one home.

INGE

Do you suppose you would have married the Prince without the shoe that Raspina made you?

ELLIE

Yes. The shoe was just a way of finding each other again.

KAREN

You know, if all my shoes were made by elves, not Raspina herself, I have a big problem with her.

INGE

It sounds as if you’re standing against her anyway. I’m not sure you’re giving her a fair chance.

KAREN

And you sound like someone with an ulterior motive. What’s your story with Raspina? Are you in love with her? Did those black brogues cast a spell?

INGE

I barely noticed her when my new mother bought the shoes. In those days, as you put it, I had my nose in the air. I was selfish and young and very excited about living in Lilleby with Mother Tillie.

But she kept sending me back to the forest to see the woman who had borne me. Twice a year, Christmas and Midsummer. The first time, I walked all the way there, and I saw her before she saw me. She was squatting down by a fire, spitting into it to drive away devils. And I turned around and walked back.

The next year—you all know it, and I’m not going to try to hide anything—Mother Tillie gave me a loaf of white bakery bread to bring along. I had every intention of embracing my birth mother and then giving her the gift, as I’d been told. But—

KAREN

I heard it had rained recently.

INGE

Yes, right. And there was a puddle. In the marsh, where puddles go deep and spoil shoes.

So I wasted that loaf of bread. I put it down in the mud so I could step on it and keep my shoes clean. And I was punished.

KAREN

You were adopted again.

INGE (FLAPPING HER WINGS INDIGNANTLY)

By the Marsh Woman! She pulled me down through the muck into her lair, and she turned me into a statue, with my foot still stuck in that loaf.

Then she just lined me up with everyone else she’d hauled in from the marsh, all turned to stone in ridiculous postures, and she went about her own business as if we were nothing. Which we were, essentially—we were all throwaways. But we could see and feel everything …

Maybe I deserved it. I’d been selfish. But not everyone down there belonged, you know?

ELLIE

I suppose you mean Raspina.

INGE

I do. She came along a few months after I did, or maybe a year—it’s hard to tell, with everything dark all the time and the Marsh Woman never sleeping. Anyway, when she pulled Raspina in from the bog, she set her up next to me. And we became friends.

KAREN

I thought you couldn’t move. You could move your lips, for talking?

INGE

There are other ways of communicating. By then I’d started to pray regularly, and somehow she heard me.

ELLIE

What you’re implying is sacrilege.

INGE

I’m not saying she’s a saint. Just that I needed someone to hear me, and she did. And I heard her. She told me about the shoemakers’ guild and the trial, all her supposed crimes against the organization. How the tribunal said she had to stop doing business: “No red shoes, no glass shoes, no new shoes.”

It sounded to me as if the other shoemakers were just jealous. And it was two against one, so naturally Raspina was convicted.

ELLIE

The trial took place in front of the Prince and me and several magistrates.

KAREN

I was a witness. I testified.

INGE

And I’m sure all of you had the best of intentions. But those two cobblers were jealous because Raspina was becoming famous for the shoes she’d made for us. It was great publicity, people saying that one pair of her shoes had snagged a penniless girl a prince, and another pair made an even less fortunate girl a fine dancer—before you had your feet cut off, Karen, which in my opinion was a sort of nose-to-spite-your-face situation—and there just wasn’t enough business in Lilleby for them too. Especially once the elves turned up.

KAREN

She could have sent some customers to the other cobblers. As a gesture of goodwill.

INGE

Would you have gone to anyone else?

(ELLIE gnaws on a hangnail; KAREN pecks at the feathers along one wing.)

INGE

(Resuming after a pregnant pause.)

So you see, she behaved honorably. She put out a superior product, which was bought by elderly women to give to their young charges—that’s the three of us—and even if she had help from the elves, she never put her stamp on an inferior shoe.

ELLIE

Don’t you blame her for your years with the Marsh Woman? And for the fact that you had to turn into a bird to escape?

INGE

Becoming a bird was my reward. And no. I am the one who chose to tread on the loaf. All my own fault. Just like you, Karen—you could have chosen to stop dancing after you got that first pair off your feet, but you did not do it.

KAREN

I couldn’t stop myself.

INGE

But not because of Raspina or any other kind of magic. It was because you had a compulsion.

Ellie, you did stop yourself, and you ran away at midnight, just as you’d promised your godmother. So the shoes brought you nothing but good luck. Happiness with the Prince. Riches. Children. You should be grateful to Raspina.

ELLIE (IN A SMALL VOICE)

I am.

INGE

Then why aren’t we all helping her leave the bog? The Marsh Woman won’t try to keep her; she doesn’t care about the statues, just has them up because nobody else wants them. She didn’t try to stop me when I flew away, for example.

KAREN

Well, why doesn’t Raspina turn into a bird? If that’s the way to get out … Maybe she wants to stay down there.

INGE

She doesn’t. She wants to …

ELLIE (GRAVELY)

Be with you?

INGE (WITH RENEWED VIGOR, RUFFLING HER NECK FEATHERS)

She wants to be exonerated. She wants a clean record in the eyes of Lilleby. She wants a new challenge; the Midsummer dances will be larger than ever this year, which means a lot of feet to be shod. And yes, well, maybe, she wants to be with me.

KAREN

But you’re a bird!

INGE (COLDLY)

And?

ELLIE

Will you need help to change from a bird back to a girl?

KAREN

Back to a statue.

(They pause. All three eye each other warily.)

INGE

Look, we all know what’s going on here. Why pretend any longer?

KAREN

I suppose you want us to ask what you mean.

INGE

I’ll take the question as asked, then. It’s clear to me—I mean, I think it’s clear to all of us, and to everyone in the courtroom today—that all three of us are in love with Raspina. And the two of you can’t handle that.

ELLIE

I’m a married woman! And a mother! And my husband is sitting right in front of me.

(She avoids meeting eyes with anyone in the audience.)

INGE

But when you were a little girl, Ellie, and Raspina came by your house to fit your stepsisters, you had a crush on her. She’s told me all about it. You brought her buckets of your wood ash and begged her to buy it. She felt sorry for you, so she paid you twice the going rate, just so you could get something nice to eat once in a while. And that made you love her. Admit it—you put on the glass shoes to feel close to her.

ELLIE (OUTRAGED)

Did Raspina say all that?

KAREN

Ouch.

INGE

And you, Karen … You love her too.

KAREN

I’m on crutches because of her!

INGE

But you were still content enough as long as Raspina was the one making the shoes, correct? Then you found out about the elves, and you and Raspina quarreled. She insisted that she had a right to have help, and you insisted that she should be the only one touching your feet. And when she kept disagreeing with you, you ordered the woodsman to chop off your own feet and told everybody that the shoes Raspina made were possessed by demons.

KAREN

(remains silent)

INGE (FLAPPING WINGS FOR ATTENTION)

Look, our lives are a mess. I’m a plain brown bird—I’ll admit it, not the life I dreamed of—and Karen has no feet. Ellie is married to someone who treats her well but is not her first love. Bringing Raspina up from the bog might complicate things for all of us—but really, she holds the answers—she is the answer. To my problems, anyway.

KAREN

I say that if we haul her up, we make her choose. She can have only one of us.

INGE

And I think that if we bring her up, she can do a lot of good around here. For example, I’ve heard … Well, never mind.

ELLIE

Don’t stop now—go ahead and solve all our lives.

INGE

I’ve heard that a mermaid just came to shore and split her tail into two legs.

KAREN

So what?

INGE

She’s going to need shoes. And she’s beautiful.

KAREN

But she can barely walk.

INGE

Yes, and I’m a bird, and Ellie is married, and you have no feet at all.

ELLIE

What is your point, then?

INGE

Maybe this time, we can save somebody before disaster befalls through her own bad choices.

KAREN

Are you sure you want to do that?

INGE

Why not?

KAREN

Competition, obviously. That girl is not worn out from dancing and childbearing and living under a bog.

(ALL look down at their feet, claws, or stumps.)

ELLIE

One other thing …

INGE (WARILY)

Yes?

ELLIE

You noted earlier that every one of us had our shoes paid for by an older woman …

KAREN

Yes …

INGE

But—

ELLIE

Are you prepared to be the older woman, instead of the young girl with the new shoes?

(She waits, gavel raised.)

Is that a no?

KAREN

It is a good question.

(The heavy wooden door opens with a groan. A tall girl with bare feet, the STRANGER, staggers toward the table, silent.)

KAREN

That’s a no from me.

ELLIE (BRISKLY)

Then we’re in—

INGE

Wait a moment. Just wait.

(She flies to the STRANGER’s shoulder; or, if played by a human, glides to her side, with legs concealed by the black pants or skirt, to peck at the STRANGER’s shoulder and murmur in her ear.)

I will sponsor this young lady. What do you think, my dear? Would you like to try some new shoes? Yes? Well then, let’s haul Raspina up and see what she can do.

ELLIE

You’ll do anything to get her out of the bog, won’t you?

KAREN

You’ll lose a lover and gain a goddaughter.

INGE

It was never really just about the shoes.

(All gaze at the STRANGER, who stares back, blank-faced and innocent. ELLIE brings down her gavel.)

CURTAIN