Were never any vainer.

One day they got a note, a pink, Sweet-scented, crested one, Which was an invitation To a ball, from the king’s son. Oh, then poor Cinderella Had to starch, and iron, and plait, And run of errands, frill and crimp, And ruffle, early and late. And when the ball-night came at last, She helped to paint their faces, To lace their satin shoes, and deck Them up with flowers and laces; Then watched their coach roll grandly Out of sight; and, after that, She sat down by the chimney, In the cinders, with the cat,

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And sobbed as if her heart would break. Hot tears were on her lashes, Her little hands got black with soot, Her feet begrimed with ashes, When right before her, on the hearth, She knew not how nor why, A little odd old woman stood, And said, “Why do you cry?”

“It is so very lonely here,”

Poor Cinderella said,

And sobbed again. The little odd

Old woman bobbed her head,

And laughed a merry kind of laugh,

And whispered, “Is that all?

Wouldn’t my little Cinderella

Like to go to the ball?

“Run to the garden, then, and fetch A pumpkin, large and nice; Go to the pantry shelf, and from The mouse-traps get the mice; Rats you will find in the rat-trap; And, from the watering-pot, Or from under the big, flat garden stone, Six lizards must be got.” Nimble as crickets in the grass She ran, till it was done, And then God-mother stretched her wand And touched them every one. The pumpkin changed into a coach, Which glittered as it rolled, And the mice became six horses, With harnesses of gold.
One rat a herald was, to blow A trumpet in advance, And the first blast that he sounded Made the horses plunge and prance; And the lizards were made footmen, Because they were so spry; And the old rat-coachman on the box Wore jeweled livery. And then on Cinderella’s dress The magic wand was laid, And straight the dingy gown became A glistening gold brocade. The gems that shone upon her fingers Nothing could surpass; And on her dainty little feet Were slippers made of glass. [THUMB]
[PAGE] “Be sure you get back here, my dear, At twelve o’clock at night,” Godmother said, and in a twinkling She was out of sight. When Cinderella reached the ball, And entered at the door, So beautiful a lady None had ever seen before.

The Prince his admiration showed

In every word and glance;

He led her out to supper,

And he chose her for the dance;

But she kept in mind the warning

That her Godmother had given,

And left the ball, with all its charm.

At just half after eleven.

Next night there was another ball;

She helped her sisters twain

To pinch their waists, and curl their hair,

And paint their cheeks again.

Then came the fairy Godmother,

And, with her wand, once more

Arrayed her out in greater splendor

Even than before.

The coach and six, with gay outriders,

Bore her through the street,

And a crowd was gathered round to look,

The lady was so sweet,—

So light of heart, and face, and mien,

As happy children are;

And when her foot stepped down,

Her slipper twinkled like a star.

Again the Prince chose only her

For waltz or tete-a-tete;

So swift the minutes flew she did not

Dream it could be late,

But all at once, remembering

What her Godmother had said,

And hearing twelve begin to strike

Upon the clock, she fled.

Swift as a swallow on the wing

She darted, but, alas!

Dropped from one flying foot the tiny

Slipper made of glass;

But she got away, and well it was

She did, for in a trice

Her coach changed to a pumpkin,

And her horses became mice;

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