But Christmas Eve was a busy night in the Bakery, and Maman would sit late in her little golden cage, not leaving it until Anne Marie had long been abed and asleep. Of course, their friends and patrons must have their Christmas cakes and pastries, their Christmas buns and rolls. Anne Marie would not have had it otherwise.
‘But I would like to slip downstairs just for a moment to show my Polly to Maman,’ coaxed Anne Marie, leaning across her bowl of bread and milk to pat Grand’mère upon the cheek.
Although Grand’mère smiled at Anne Marie, she shook her head.
‘That would not please Maman,’ was Grand’mère’s answer, and Anne Marie knew it was true. ‘You may show her your Polly to-morrow morning when you wish her “Joyeux Noel.” Maman left a message for you, Anne Marie. She said that you might go into her bedroom and look at her ball dress that is lying on the bed, but that you must not touch it. Wait, Anne Marie, wait for me.’
For already Anne Marie had slipped from her chair, and with Polly in her arms was hurrying down the hall toward Maman’s bedroom.
‘You did not know it, Polly,’ said Anne Marie as she went, ‘but to-night Papa and Maman go to the ball. And of all the lovely ladies who will be there to-night, in pink and blue dresses, in scarlet and white, Maman will be the loveliest of them all. Papa has told me this, but I already knew it myself before he told me. And now we are to see her dress, her new ball dress that she has never worn.’
The new ball dress lay spread out upon the bed. It was white, soft and filmy white, and trimmed with delicate silver lace.
Not for anything in the world would Anne Marie have so much as laid a finger upon it. It was far, far too beautiful for any little girl to touch.
Beside the dress lay the softly gleaming silver slippers that Maman was to wear. And there, too, oh, how lovely! was the wreath of tiny silver flowers that would rest like a crown on Maman’s dark curling hair.
‘Oh!’ breathed Anne Marie in delight. ‘Oh, Grand’mère!’