"Lead the way, slave," she commanded haughtily, "and the Princess Cendre will follow."
Then down to a great dining hall she went. Upon the walls were many mirrors, and the table was laid with dishes of beaten gold. The Princess Cendre (for we may never again call her Little Sweep, unless we wish to make her very angry) gazed with delight at her image reflected in the mirrors and ate with greatest satisfaction from the golden dishes. When at last the meal was done, musicians played sweet airs for her pleasure. Princess Cendre enjoyed the music, but oh, much more did she enjoy gazing about the splendid hall wherein she sat! A thousand tapers made all as bright as day; the walls were hung with silken tapestries, and curtains made of lace as fine as cobwebs covered all the windows. It was while she sat gazing thus that Princess Cendre suddenly bethought her of the little cottage Sweep had furnished for her. Then it came also to her mind that to-morrow was her wedding day.
"Well, to be sure," thought she, "if all these wondrous things had never happened, I would have married Sweep. But now that would never do. Sweep could not expect it. His black face would ill become my splendid castle by the sea."
The musicians then sang good-night songs, and Princess Cendre sought her room once more. There on a table she found several books with her title, "Princess Cendre," stamped in golden letters on the covers. She was more than pleased to see how it was written; she had been wondering how she would even manage to spell this fine new name of hers. Before she slept that night, she took pen and paper and practiced writing "Princess Cendre" a hundred times, that she might do it gracefully forever after. (While she had been a wretched little Crossing Sweeper, she had not learned much in books, you know. So it was that she did not know that "Princess Cendre" meant naught but "Princess Sweep" in a foreign language.)
II
Now we must leave this selfish Princess Cendre sweetly sleeping in her castle by the sea and make our way back to Sweep's snug little garret once again. On the night of this eventful day Sweep returned home from his labors very late. There was no light in the attic just across the way, but he was quite content. He thought, of course, his Little Sweep was safely tucked up there. Before he ate his bread and cheese, he tossed three sugar cookies in at her window, and then set about polishing his shoes and making himself extra smart for the morrow. Sweep's candle burned very late; but even so, when he lay down to sleep at last, he dreamed such dreadful dreams that he was glad when morning came. He dreamed that he had lost his Little Sweep, and that he married in her stead her broomstick dressed up in the little gray wedding frock. The clock with the loud ringing bell wakened him at last, and Sweep dressed himself in all his holiday attire. Then he called softly to the attic just across the way.
"Wake up, my Little Sweep," said he; "this is your wedding day." He tossed in a bright red apple, and presently a head was thrust forth from the attic window opposite. Not Little Sweep's, as of course he had expected, but the shocking, tousled head of the old master.
"Ah, kind Sweep!" exclaimed the old master, "I do most greatly thank thee for the sugar cookies and the red apple."
"But those sugar cookies and red apple were not for you, old villain!" cried Sweep. "They were for my darling Little Sweep. Give them to her at once, I say."
"Oh, pray, good Sweep! I cannot give the sugar cookies or the red apple to Little Sweep, because I have already eaten them myself; besides, she is no longer here, you know," replied the old master, and then began to tell the tale of wonders he had seen the day before.