you wish that you were going to the ball with us, Cinderella?”
“Why do you make fun of me?” said Cinderella sadly; “you know very well that such things are not for me.”
“You are right!” cried Euphronia with a spiteful laugh. “Fancy a Cinderslut at the Prince’s ball! How everybody would laugh!”
Cinderella felt very much inclined to give her step sister’s hair a tug, or at the very least to dress it awry; but she controlled herself with an effort, and went on quietly with her task.
“They say,” remarked Charlotte, who was carefully fixing a patch shaped like a coach and four on her cheek—“they say that the Prince is to choose a bride from among the high-born ladies who will be present at the ball. Oh, sister, suppose it should be me!”
“Pooh! What nonsense!” replied Euphronia with a giggle. “How do you get such fancies in your head? The Prince would be just as likely to choose Cinderslut here. Besides, he has dark hair and eyes, and it is well known that dark people always prefer women who are blonde, and have a touch of colour in their complexion.”
And in another minute they were at it again, quarrelling hammer and tongs, so that Cinderella’s head nearly burst with the din. At last, however, everything wasready, the carriage came to the door, and they drove away, leaving poor Cinderella gazing sadly out of the window after them.
