When the great day came at last, they began to dress for the ball directly after breakfast. Cinderella had to help them; and they kept her busy all day doing their hair, and running messages, and helping them to lace up their fine dresses.
When Cinderella saw their beautiful clothes she wished that she could go to the ball as well; but when she timidly asked if she might, they laughed in mocking scorn.
"You go to the ball!" they cried. "What would you do at the ball, with your rags and tatters and your dirty face? No, no, Cinderella, go back to your seat amongst the ashes—that is the place for a little kitchen girl like you!"
So the two sisters and their mother drove away in a carriage and pair to the King's palace, and Cinderella was left behind. She sat down on the hearth before the kitchen fire and began to cry softly to herself, because she felt so very lonely and miserable.
As she sat there in the dusk, with the firelight dancing over her, and her face buried in her hands, she heard a voice calling:
"Cinderella, Cinderella!" and with a start she looked up to see who it could be.
There on the hearth in front of her stood an old woman, leaning upon a stick. She was dressed in a long red cloak, and she wore high-heeled shoes and a tall black hat.
Where she had come from Cinderella could not imagine. She certainly had not come in through the door, nor yet through the window for both were shut.
Cinderella was so surprised to see her that she stopped crying, and stared at her in astonishment.