"What a pity, what a pity!" half sighed, half pouted Bertha.
"It is too bad, too provoking!" ejaculated Maurice.
"If there be no obstacle but the lack of a ball-dress for yourself and for Bertha, aunt," remarked Madeleine, "we may console ourselves; for we will go to the ball."
"Oh, you dear, good, ingenious Madeleine!" exclaimed Bertha, throwing her arms around her cousin. "I wonder if the time ever will arrive when you have not some resource to extricate us from a difficulty?"
"Madeleine forever! Long live Madeleine!" shouted Maurice, with enthusiasm.
"And now, good, fairy godmother, where is the robe of gold and silver to deck your Cinderella?" asked Bertha.
"I did not promise gold and silver apparel; you must be content with a toilet simple, airy, fresh, and spring-like as yourself. And for you, aunt, I will arrange an autumn arraying,—a costume soft, yet bright, like the autumn days which the Americans call 'Indian summer,'—something which will almost make one wish to fall into the sere and yellow leaf of life in the hope of resembling you."
"But how is it possible to make two ball-dresses between this time and night after next?" inquired the countess, evidently not at all averse to the project, if it could be carried into execution.
"I answer for the possibility!" replied Madeleine.
"Yes, Madeleine answers for it!" repeated Maurice.