“Yes, yes, here they are,” cried Cinderella, “all except the lizards, and I will go and fetch them at once. There are six more mice in the trap, and a rat that will make the most magnificent coachman. Oh, godmother, how good you are to me!”
She danced with joy as the old woman, with a touch of her stick, caused the grand coach^and horses, the portly coachman and the lackeys to appear. Last of all, she received a touch on the shoulder herself, and her rags gave place to a dress that was even more magnificent than the one she had worn on the previous night. This time it was of the palest yellow silk, shaded in colour like a tea-rose, and the glass shoes on her feet were delicately edged with gold.
Once again the old woman warned her not on any account to stay at the palace after twelve o’clock, for on the last stroke of the hour all her beautiful things would change back again, and she would appear as a mere kitchen-maid, garbed in rags. Cinderella promised to give heed to her words and drove away.
When she arrived at the palace she found the Prince already waiting for her, all on fire with impatience, for he had begun to fear that she was not coming. As before, he led her into the ballroom on his arm, and gave her the place of honour among his guests. All the evening he never left her side, and he whispered a thousand tender things to her as they sat beneath the palms on the terrace.
