It was soon four o’clock, and Fannie’s father hurriedly entered the drawing-room, where she was chatting with her Godmother.
“Well, Fannie!” he cried. “Are you ready? Are you ready?” Then he started back when he saw his daughter, in her pretty pink and blue house-gown, stretched indolently on a sofa, her feet to the fire, while she daintily sipped her coffee.
“What!” exclaimed her father. “Have you forgotten that you were to be ready at four o’clock!”
“Do you not see my Godmother with me, Papa?” said Fannie reproachfully.
“Pardon me, madame,” said the father, turning to the Fairy and bowing, although his face was red with anger. “Excuse my rudeness, but my daughter will cause me to die with grief!”
“And what has the poor child done?” asked the Godmother.
“Judge for yourself,” said he. “Prince Pandolph has invited us to his villa. Fannie is to sing for his guests. They are all assembled and expecting her. The Prince has sent his carriage which is now waiting before the door.”
“But, Papa,” said Fannie, “cannot you go without me?”
“You know that cannot be, child,” said her father sadly. “It is you who are invited, and it is your fine voice that the Prince wishes for his musicale. He will now be offended for ever, since you cannot go in this dress.”
“Calm yourself, my good sir,” said the Godmother, seeing Fannie’s confusion. “It is because of me that this dear little one has forgotten you. It is for me to repair this evil.”