“Yes,” answered Cinderella, “but am I to go to the ball in these shabby old clothes? Everybody would stare at me!”
“Bless my soul, I forgot all about the dress!” cried the old woman; “but that is easily attended to.” She touched Cinderella lightly on the shoulder with her stick, and immediately her dingy gown was changed into a magnificent dress of white silk, embroidered with butterflies and flowers of a delicate blue, and sewn with seed-pearls. Round her neck was a necklace of pearls and diamonds, and, greatest wonder of all, on her tiny feet was a pair of glass shoes, the prettiest that ever were seen.
“Now you are all ready,” said the kind godmother who had worked all these marvels. “Step into the coach and drive away, but before you go, take careful heed of what I say. You may dance and enjoy yourself to your heart’s content until midnight, but on the stroke of twelve you must leave the ballroom and come home. If you remain even a minute longer, your coach will become a pumpkin, your horses mice, your coachman a rat, and your footmen lizards, while your pretty gown will change back again into your shabby old dress. That will not be nice for you, to have such things happening in everybody’s sight, so remember my warning.”
Cinderella promised her godmother that she would not fail to act upon her advice, and, stepping into her coach, drove off, almost beside herself with joy.
