“I will go and see if there is never a rat in the rattrap—we may make a coachman of him.”
“Thou art in the right,” replied her Godmother. “Go and look.”
Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. The fairy made choice of one of the three which had the largest beard, and having touched him with her wand he was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After that she said to her:
“Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering-pot. Bring them to me.”
She had no sooner done so but her Godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella:
“Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with. Are you not pleased with it?”
“Oh! yes,” cried she; “but must I go thither as I am, in these dirty rags?”
Her Godmother only just touched her with her wand, and at the same instant her clothes were turned into cloth-of-gold and silver, all beset with jewels. Ah! who can describe a robe made by the fairies? It was white as snow, and as dazzling; round the hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling like dewdrops in the sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could only have been spun by fairy spiders. Surely it was a dream! Cinderella put her daintily gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls that encircled her neck.
“Come, child,” said the Godmother, “or you will be late.”
As Cinderella moved, the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes.