"A little bird told me," said Kenneth mysteriously. "And as we are getting friendly over the cinders, you see, it's just the right name for you."
For a moment Ella looked doubtful as to whether to be cross or pleased at her new name, but her natural sweet temper soon came to the fore.
"If I'm Cinderella," she said, "I know who's the Prince."
"Who?" questioned Kenneth with interest.
"Father is," she answered confidentially; "when he comes home, Grannie and I are going to live in a big house again, and we shan't be poor any more."
"That'll be jolly for you, won't it?"
Kenneth was beginning to feel much interested in this little girl with the pretty blue eyes and brown curly hair.
"Yes, I should just think it will," said Ella; "but I mustn't stop talking any more. Grannie will be ever so cross if she—"
The rest of the sentence was never finished, for little Ella, in turning round to fulfil her task, suddenly slipped and fell to the ground.
A cry of unmistakable pain came from her lips, and then she grew so dreadfully white that Kenneth was frightened.