"I am perfectly comfortable where I am,"—with an oblique glance at the doorway.
"I am convinced that you are the Cinderella; I can not figure it out otherwise."
"Do not figure at all; simply leave the shoe."
"It is too near twelve o'clock for that. Besides, I wish to demolish the pumpkin theory. It's all tommy-rot about changing pumpkins into chariots, unless you happen to be a successful pie-merchant."
She bit her lips and tapped her cheek with the fan. (Did I mention the bloomy cheeks?)
"Perhaps I am only one of Cinderella's elder sisters."
"That would be very unfortunate. You will recollect that the elder sisters cut off their—"
"Good gracious!"
"Cut off their toes in the mad effort to capture the prince," I continued.
"But I am not trying to capture any prince, not even a fairy prince; and I wouldn't—"