"Cinderella!"
"I TOLD you they were too tight," she explained rapidly, "and I was trodden on by every man in the place, and I simply HAD to kick them off at supper, and—and I only got one back. I don't know what happened to the other; I suppose it got pushed along somewhere, but, anyhow, I wasn't going under the table after it." She laughed suddenly and softly to herself. "I wonder what they'll do when they find the slipper?" she said.
. . . . . . . .
Of course the King's son (or anyhow, Mr Hogbin) ought to have sent it round to all the ladies in Mayfair, taking knightly oath to marry her whom it fitted. But what actually happened was that a footman found it, and, being very sentimental and knowing that nobody would ever dare to claim it, carried it about with him ever afterwards—thereby gaining a great reputation with his cronies as a nut.
Oh, and by the way—I ought to put in a good word for the godmother.
She did her best.
"Cinderella!" said her mother at lunch next day, as she looked up from her letters. "Why didn't you tell me your godmother was ill?"
"She wasn't very well when I left her, but I didn't think it was anything much. Is she bad? I AM sorry."
"She writes that she has obtained measles. I suppose that means YOU'RE infectious. Really, it's very inconvenient. Well, I'm glad we didn't know yesterday or you couldn't have gone to the dance."
"Dear fairy godmother!" said Cinderella to herself. "She was a day too late, but how sweet of her to think of it at all!"