So Cinderella held out her little foot, and the chamberlain put the slipper on quite easily. It fitted like wax. This was an astonishing thing, but it was more astonishing still when Cinderella produced the other slipper and put it on the other foot. Then, to show that wonders could never cease, the door flew open, and in came the fairy godmother. One touch of her wand on Cinderella's clothes, and there she stood again dressed as on the night of the ball, only this time there were not only jewels in her hair but orange blossoms as well.
There was a breathless silence for a while. Then, when Cinderella's step-sisters realised that she was the same beautiful unknown that they had seen at the ball, they prostrated themselves before her, begging her to forgive all. Cinderella took them by the hand and raised them up and kissed them. And it melted their hard natures to hear her say that she would love them always.
When the fairy godmother had witnessed all this she said to herself, 'That's that!' and vanished. But she never lost sight of Cinderella. She guided and guarded her in all her ways, and, when the Prince claimed his willing bride, their way of happiness was strewn with roses.
THE CHILLY LOVER A SONG FROM THE FRENCH
Behold me here, my dear to meet!
Alas, I must have come too soon!
The wind that blows beneath the moon
In winter is not over-sweet.
Ah! never think my love is backward turning,
It still increases by a thousand-fold;
O Ursula, for thee
My heart is burning,—
But I'm so cold!
I would I had thy hand to kiss,
That pledge of faith so white and small,
Instead of these great flakes that fall
And chill me to the bone like this!
Upon my back they tumble helter-skelter,
And yet, beyond whatever could be told,
O Ursula, for thee
I simply swelter,—
But I'm so cold!
While thus my deathless love I trill,
My soft guitar for thee I play;
Alas, the north wind fierce and grey
Plays upon me a measure shrill!
On me his miserable music making,
Seizing each finger in his icy hold.—
O Ursula, for thee
My heart is baking,—
But I'm so cold!
Within thy room with friendly glow
I see the hearthfire shining clear;
The crackling faggots I can hear,—
And I am numb from top to toe!
Oh, must I freeze while thou art toasting?
Shall not my suffering be consoled?
Sweet Ursula, for thee
I am just roasting,—
But I'm so cold!
O URSULA, FOR THEE
MY HEART IS BURNING,—
BUT I'M SO COLD!