"There's never any telling where you'll find things," replied Cinderella. "We might look at least."
No one had observed that the Masked Lady had straightened up with a very dramatic gesture. The sand in the glass she held had all fallen!
No sooner had she spoken than Cinderella advanced to the alcove hidden by the damask curtain. The other children watched her intently. She barely touched the curtain—yet it was drawn aside. And everything within the alcove became visible.
There was a perfectly beautiful bed, all trimmed with gold and silver lace, so it is said. And on it reposed a slight, queen-like young lady, fully dressed, yet sound asleep. Her cheeks were delicately tinted, indicating perfect health. Her lips were slightly parted; her bosom rose and fell tranquilly. A naked little Cupid knelt on her pillow, his wings aloft, his eyes intently inspecting her closed eyelids.
Everychild seemed really to lose control of himself. He gazed, and then he advanced in a manner so determined that Cinderella drew back, leaving him alone with the sleeper, save for the Cupid on the pillow and the lady of honor asleep in her chair.
"It is the Sleeping Beauty!" exclaimed Everychild. Somehow or other he knew positively. He knelt down beside her and gazed at her reverently. Slowly and gently he reached for the hand nearest him. He took it into his own; and then—he never could have told what put it into his head to do so!—he shyly kissed the beautiful hand.
And the Sleeping Beauty? She sighed and opened her eyes. For an instant she gazed dreamily at the ceiling. Then she sat up, placing her feet on the floor. With wonder and delight she leaned a little forward, her eyes fixed on Everychild's.
And then she said, in a voice which would have set the birds to singing, if there had been any near by—
"Is it you, my prince? You have waited a long while!"