Now what would have happened to Cinderella if she had not profited by her dancing lessons at school? One never knows how soon the time may come when one will be glad of one’s accomplishments. As it was, there was no lady in the hall who could dance more gracefully than she. Her little feet, clad in their shimmering glass slippers, tripped the measure as lightly as though they were treading on air. It was a joy to see her.
Meanwhile, all the guests were asking each other questions.
“Oh, how lovely she is!” said one. “Who can she be?”
“She must be some princess from foreign parts,” said another, “for she certainly does not belong to any of the families of the province.”
“Send a lackey down to the courtyard,” said another, “and let him look at the coat of arms on her carriage-panels. That will tell us what we want to know.”
This was done; but the carriage-panels were not ornamented with any device, so the inquisitive guests were no wiser.
Still others followed Cinderella with their eyes and took careful note of her costume. “Whoever can her dressmaker be?” they said. “Did you ever see such wonderful fit and style. I must certainly copy that dress for my next ball, although I am afraid the material must be very costly.”
And so they continued to chatter to one another, while Cinderella, though she could not help hearing some of