All at once her fairy godmother appeared, with her wand.

"What are you crying for, my little maid?"

"I wish—I wish," began the poor girl, but her voice was choked with tears.

"You wish that you could go to the ball?"

Cinderella nodded.

"Well, then, if you will be a good girl, you shall go. Run quick and fetch me a pumpkin from the garden."

Cinderella flew to the garden and brought back the finest pumpkin she could find. She could not guess what use it would be, but the fairy scooped it hollow, and then touched it with her wand. The pumpkin became at once a splendid gilt coach.

"Now fetch me the mouse-trap from the pantry."

In the mouse-trap were six sleek mice. The fairy opened the door, and as they ran out she touched each with her wand, and it became a gray horse. But what was she to do for a coachman?

"We might look for a rat in the rat-trap," said Cinderella.

"That is a good thought. Run and bring the rat-trap, my dear."

Back came Cinderella with the trap. In it were three large rats. The fairy chose one that had long black whiskers, and she made him the coachman.

"Now go into the garden and bring me six lizards. You will find them behind the water-pot."

These were no sooner brought than, lo! with a touch of the wand they were turned into six footmen, who jumped up behind the coach, as if they had done nothing else all their days. Then the fairy said:—

"Here is your coach and six, Cinderella; your coachman and your footmen. Now you can go to the ball."

"What! in these clothes?" and Cinderella looked down at her ragged frock. The fairy laughed, and just touched her with the wand. In a twinkling, her shabby clothes were changed to a dress of gold and silver lace, and on her bare feet were silk stockings and a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest ever seen.

"Now go to the ball, Cinderella; but remember, if you stay one moment after midnight, your coach will instantly become a pumpkin, your horses will be mice, your coachman a rat, and your footmen lizards. And you? You will be once more only a cinder-maid in a ragged frock and with bare feet."

The moment she appeared all voices were hushed, the music stopped, and the dancers stood still. Such a beautiful princess had never been seen! Even the king, old as he was, turned to the queen and said:—

"She is the most beautiful being I ever saw—since I first saw you!"

As for the ladies of the court, they were all busy looking at Cinderella's clothes. They meant to get some just like them the very next day, if possible.

The prince led Cinderella to the place of highest rank, and asked her hand for the next dance. She danced with so much grace that he admired her more and more. Supper was brought in, but the prince could not keep his eyes off the beautiful stranger. Cinderella went and sat by her sisters, and shared with them the fruit which the prince gave her. They were very proud to have her by them, for they never dreamed who she really was.

Cinderella was talking with them, when she heard the clock strike the quarter hour before twelve. She went at once to the king and queen, and made them a low courtesy and bade them good-night. The queen said there was to be another ball the next night, and she must come to that. The prince led her down the steps to her coach, and she drove home.

At the house the fairy sat waiting for Cinderella. The maiden began to tell all that had happened, and was in the midst of her story, when a knock was heard at the door. It was the sisters coming home from the ball. The fairy disappeared, and Cinderella went to the door, rubbing her eyes, as if she had just waked from a nap. She was once more a poor little cinder-maid.

"How late you are!" she said, as she opened the door.

"If you had been to the ball, you would not have thought it late," said her sisters. "There came the most beautiful princess that ever was seen. She was very polite to us, and loaded us with oranges and grapes."

"Who was she?" asked Cinderella.

"Nobody knew her name. The prince would give his eyes to know."

"Ah! how I should like to see her," said Cinderella. "Oh, do, my Lady Javotte,"—that was the name of the elder sister,—"lend me the yellow dress that you wear every day, and let me go to the ball and have a peep at the beautiful princess."

"What! lend my yellow gown to a cinder-maid! I am not so silly as that."

Cinderella was not sorry to have Javotte say no; she would have been puzzled to know what to do if her sister had really lent her the dress she begged for.