“They looked something like that,” said Marilla. “They were so fat and they had such round eyes, and you could make them laugh so easily. I went to take care of them and amuse them, but they were so good, they hardly ever cried, and I used to ride them round—they had such a beautiful wagon! But sometimes it seemed so heavy, it had to be big, you know, and then there was Jack. He wasn’t very good, but after awhile he went to kindergarten.”
“But how did you get away if you were bound?”
She told the story very simply and how a lovely lady took her in and she was ill a long while, and she knew this was a fairy godmother, so she always called her that, because—
“Because what?”
“It was a curious dream I had. Bridget said it was a dream; but it seemed so real, and I was Cinderella.” 273
“Oh, do tell us!” they pleaded.
“I am afraid it’s silly,” and she flushed.
“Cinderella is lovely, and did you see the Prince?”
They all looked so eager that she was persuaded. So she began by sitting in the corner of the kitchen and they listened as if they were enchanted. She was so vivid it seemed as if her face was transfigured. Mrs. Warren dropped her sewing and bent forward.
Edith drew a long breath and squeezed the new cousin’s hand. “Oh” she cried, “it’s lovelier than the real Cinderella, and you danced with the Prince? Can you dance—truly?”