in their glee that for nearly two days they ate nothing. They
broke more than a dozen laces through drawing their stays tight in order
to make their waists more slender, and they were perpetually in front of
a mirror.

At last the happy day arrived. Away they went, Cinderella watching them
as long as she could keep them in sight. When she could no longer see
them she began to cry. Her godmother found her in tears, and asked what
was troubling her.

'I should like--I should like----'

She was crying so bitterly that she could not finish the sentence.

Said her godmother, who was a fairy:

'You would like to go to the ball, would you not?'

'Ah, yes,' said Cinderella, sighing.

'Well, well,' said her godmother, 'promise to be a good girl and I will
arrange for you to go.'

She took Cinderella into her room and said:

'Go into the garden and bring me a pumpkin.'

Cinderella went at once and gathered the finest that she could find.
This she brought to her godmother, wondering how a pumpkin could help in
taking her to the ball.

Her godmother scooped it out, and when only the rind was left, struck it
with her wand. Instantly the pumpkin was changed into a beautiful coach,
gilded all over.

Then she went and looked in the mouse-trap, where she found six mice
all alive. She told Cinderella to lift the door of the mouse-trap a
little, and as each mouse came out she gave it a tap with her wand,
whereupon it was transformed into a fine horse. So that here was a fine
team of six dappled mouse-grey horses.

But she was puzzled to know how to provide a coachman.

'I will go and see,' said Cinderella, 'if there is not a rat in the
rat-trap. We could make a coachman of him.'

'Quite right,' said her godmother, 'go and see.'

Cinderella brought in the rat-trap, which contained three big rats. The
fairy chose one specially on account of his elegant whiskers.

As soon as she had touched him he turned into a fat coachman with the
finest moustachios that ever were seen.

'Now go into the garden and bring me the six lizards which you will find
behind the water-butt.'

No sooner had they been brought than the godmother turned them into six
lackeys, who at once climbed up behind the coach in their braided
liveries, and hung on there as if they had never done anything else all
their lives.

Then said the fairy godmother:

'Well, there you have the means of going to the ball. Are you
satisfied?'

'Oh, yes, but am I