Whilst Cinderella was occupied in relating all that had passed at the ball to her godmother, the two sisters knocked at the door, and as she went to open it for them the fairy disappeared.
“O, how late you are in coming home,” said Cinderella, rubbing her eyes, as if just awakened.
“If you had been at the ball,” said one of the sisters, “you would not have been tired; for there was there the most beautiful princess that ever was seen, who paid us much attention, and gave us oranges and citrons.”
Cinderella could scarcely contain herself for joy. She asked the name of the princess, but they said it was not known, and that the king's son was therefore much distressed, and would give anything he had to know who she could be.
Cinderella smiled, and said, “Was she, then, so very beautiful? Could not I see her? O, Javotte, do lend me your yellow dress, that you wear every day, that I may go to the ball, and have a peep at this wonderful princess!”
“Indeed,” said Javotte, “I am not so silly as to lend my dress to a wretched Cinderella like you.”
Cinderella expected this refusal, and was very glad of it; for she would have been greatly embarrassed if her sister had lent her the dress.
The next evening the sisters again went to the ball, and Cinderella soon made her appearance, more magnificently dressed than before. The king's son was constantly at her side, saying the most agreeable things; so that Cinderella did not notice how the time passed, and had quite forgot her godmother's injunctions. While she therefore thought it was scarcely eleven o'clock, she was startled by the first stroke of midnight. She rose very hastily, and fled as lightly as a fawn, the prince following, though he could not overtake her. In her flight she let one of her glass slippers fall, which the prince picked up with the greatest care.