Poor Betsy! She was almost upset by the Emperor's tone. She looked at him closely, and decided that he meant just what he said. She had thought her little frock so pretty. Now, what could be the matter with it?
The Emperor understood her look of inquiry and answered in words.
"It is too short," he said. "You must have it made long before the ball."
He was certainly in earnest, and the young girl was really troubled. "But I cannot do anything to it," she protested; "there is not time."
"Oh, but no one will wish to dance with you."
"It isn't as bad as that!"
"But it is."
Betsy knew that Napoleon meant what he said. He knew more about balls and ball-gowns than any young girl on the island. Indeed, if his criticism had not been based on his knowledge of the customs of the modish world, Betsy would still have been inclined to trust to his judgment; for though at times she seemed to trifle with his wishes, in her heart she was always ready to please him.
So now, as sensitive as any more conventional girl to the impression she might make at a ball, Betsy ran off to find Josephine, the maid.
Josephine shook her head when Betsy first told her tale of woe, but at last she consented to remedy the defect by lengthening the frock. There was but one thing to do, and consequently some of the tucks were let down.