How pleased and excited
they were when the invitation arrived! For days they could talk of
nothing but the clothes they should wear and the grand folk they hoped
to meet.
When at last the great day arrived, Cinderella was kept running about
from early till late, decking the sisters, and dressing their hair.
"Don't you wish you were going to the ball?" said one of them.
"Indeed I do," sighed the poor little maid. The sisters burst out
laughing. "A pretty spectacle _you_ would be," they said rudely. "Go
back to your cinders--they are fit company for rags." Then, stepping
carefully into their carriage so that they might not crush their fine
clothes, they drove away to the ball.
Cinderella went back to her chimney-corner, and tried not to feel
envious, but the tears _would_ gather in the pretty eyes, and trickle
down the sorrowful little face.
"What are you crying for, child?" cried a silvery voice.
Cinderella started, and raised her eyes. Who could it be? Then in a
moment she knew--it was her fairy Godmother!
"I do so want----" began Cinderella; then her sobs stopped her.
"To go to the ball," finished the Godmother. Cinderella nodded. "Well,
leave off crying--be a good girl, and you shall go.
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