It was still hot, but in the afternoon it clouded up and the evening brought a most refreshing shower. The hot wave was broken.
Sunday afternoon they had rolled the couch over by the window. Miss Armitage sat reading. Jane had gone out for a walk. The child seemed to have grown thinner in these few days.
She opened her eyes slowly and looked intently at the woman sitting there in her soft, white attire. She was so sweet and pretty.
“Are you a fairy godmother?” Marilla asked in a weak, wandering tone.
“A—what?” smiling in surprise.
“A fairy godmother. You don’t look like the other one, but then it was night and we went to the King’s ball. Oh, it was so splendid!” 74
“When was that?” in a soft, persuasive tone.
“Oh, a long time ago. I was Cinderella, and every new Cinderella dances with the Prince, you know. Only they can’t dance but once with him.”
It was something the child had read, doubtless.
“Do you feel better?” she asked tenderly.