Once upon a time there lived a noble
gentleman who had one dear little daughter. Poor child! her own kind mother
was dead, and her father, who loved her very dearly, was afraid that his
little girl was sometimes lonely. So he married a grand lady who had two
daughters of her own, and who, he thought, would be kind and good to his
little one. But no sooner did the stepmother enter her new home than she
began to show her true character. Her stepdaughter was so much prettier and
sweeter than her own children, that she was jealous of her, and gave her all
the hard work of the house to do, whilst the two proud sisters spent their
time at pleasant parties and entertainments.
The only pleasure the poor child had was to spend her evenings siting in
the chimney-corner, resting her weary limbs, and for this reason her sisters
mockingly nicknamed her "Cinderella." The sisters' fine clothes made
Cinderella feel very shabby; but, in her little torn frock and ragged shoes,
she was a thousand times more lovely than they.
Now it chanced that the King's son gave a grand ball, to which he invited
all the lords and ladies in the country, and, amongst the rest, Cinderella's
two sisters were asked. How pleased and excited they were when the
invitation arrived! For days they could talk of nothing but the clothes they
should wear and the grand folk they hoped to meet.
When at last the grand day arrived, Cinderella was kept running about
from early till late, decking the sisters, and dressing their hair.
"Don't you wish you were going to the ball?" said one of them.
"Indeed I do," sighed the poor little maid. The sisters burst out
laughing. "A pretty spectacle you would be," they said rudely. "Go back to
your cinders - they are fit company for rags." Then, stepping carefully into
their carriage so that they might not crush their fine clothes, they drove
away to the ball.
Cinderella went back to her chimney-corner, and tried not to feel
envious, but the tears would gather in the pretty eyes, and trickle down the
sorrowful little face.
"What are you crying for, child?" cried a silvery voice.
Cinderella started, and raised her eyes. Who could it be? Then in a
moment she knew - it was her fairy godmother!
"I do so want --" began Cinderella; then her sobs stopped her.
"To go to the ball," finished the godmother. Cinderella nodded. "Well,
leave off crying - be a good girl, and you shall go. Run quickly into the
garden, and bring the largest pumpkin you can find."
Cinderella could not imagine how a pumpkin could help her go to the ball,
but her only thought was to obey her godmother. In a few moments she was
back again, with a splendid pumpkin. Her godmother scooped out the inside -
one touch of the wand, and the pumpkin was a golden coach, lined with white
satin.
"Now, godchild, quick - the mouse-trap from the pantry!"
"Here it is, godmother," said Cinderella breathlessly.
One by one six fat sleek mice passed through the trap door. As each
appeared, a touch of the wand transformed it into a cream-colored horse, fit
for a queen.
"Now, Cinderella, can you find a coachman?"
"There is a large gray rat in the rat-trap - would he do, godmother?"
"Run and fetch him, child, and then I can judge." So Cinderella ran to
fetch the rat, and her godmother said he was just made for a coachman; and I
think you would have agreed with her had you seen him a moment later, with
his powdered wig and silk stockings.
Six lizards from behind the pumpkin-frame became six footmen in splendid
liveries - you would have thought they had been footmen all their lives.
Cinderella was so excited that she could scarcely speak.
"Oh! godmother," she cried, "it is all so lovely!" Then suddenly she
thought of her shabby frock. "There is my white muslin," she said wistfully,
"if - do you think --"
But before Cinderella could realize what was happening, her godmother's
wand tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and in place of the shabby frock,
there was a gleam of satin, silver, and pearls.
Ah! who can describe a robe made by the fairies? It was white as snow,
and as dazzling; round the hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling like
dew-drops in the sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could only
have been spun by fairy spiders. Surely it was a dream! Cinderella put her
daintily-gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls that
encircled her neck.
"Come, child," said the godmother, "or you will be late."
As Cinderella moved, the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes. "They are
of diamonds," she said.
"No," answered her godmother, smiling; "they are better than that - they
are of glass, made by the fairies. And now, child, go, and enjoy yourself to
your hearts content. Only remember, if you stay at the palace one instant
after midnight your coach and servants will vanish, and you will be the gray
Cinderella once more!"
A few moments later, the coach dashed into the royal courtyard, the door
was flung open, and Cinderella alighted. As she walked slowly up the
richly-carpeted staircase, there was a murmur of admiration, and the King's
son hastened to meet her. "Never," said he to himself, "have I seen anyone
so lovely!" He led her into the ball-room, where the King, who was much
taken with her sweet face and pretty, modest manner, whispered to the Queen
that she must surely be a foreign Princess.
The evening passed away in a dream of delight, Cinderella dancing with no
one but the handsome young Prince, and being waited on by his own hands at
the supper-table. The two sisters could not recognize their ragged little
sister in the beautiful and graceful lady to whom the Prince paid so much
attention, and felt quite pleased and flattered when she addressed a few
words to them.
Presently a clock chimed the three quarters past eleven, and, remembering
her godmother's warning, Cinderella at once took leave of the Prince, and,
jumping into her coach, was driven rapidly home. Here she found her
godmother waiting to hear all about the ball. "It was lovely," said
Cinderella; "and oh! Godmother, there is to be another to-morrow night, and
I should so much like to go to it!"
"Then you shall," replied the kind fairy, and kissing her godchild
tenderly, she vanished. When the sisters returned from the ball, they found
a sleepy little maiden sitting in the chimney-corner, waiting for them.
"How late you are!" cried Cinderella, yawning. "Are you not very tired?"
"Not in the least," they answered, and then they told her what a
delightful ball it had been, and how the loveliest Princess in the world had
been there, and had spoken to them, and admired their pretty dresses.
"Who was she?" asked Cinderella.
"That we cannot say," answered the sisters. "She would not tell her name,
though the Prince begged her to do so on bended knees.
"Dear sister," said Cinderella, "I, too, should like to see the beautiful
Princess. Will you not lend me your old yellow gown, that I may go to the
ball to-morrow with you?"
"What!" cried her sister angrily; "lend one of my dresses to a little
cinder-maid? Don't talk nonsense, child!"
The next night, the sisters were more particular than ever about their
attire, but at last they were dressed, and as soon as their carriage had
driven away, the godmother appeared. Once more she touched her godchild with
her wand, and in a moment she was arrayed in a beautiful dress that seemed
as though it had been woven of moon-beams and sunshine, so radiantly did it
gleam and shimmer. She put her arms round her godmother's neck and kissed
and thanked her. "Good-bye childie; enjoy yourself, but whatever you do,
remember to leave the ball before the clock strikes twelve," the godmother
said, and Cinderella promised.
But the hours flew by so happily and so swiftly that Cinderella forgot
her promise, until she happened to look at a clock and saw that it was on
the stroke of twelve. With a cry of alarm she fled from the room, dropping,
in her haste, one of the little glass slippers; but, with the sound of the
clock strokes in her ears, she dared not wait to pick it up. The Prince
hurried after her in alarm, but when he reached the entrance hall, the
beautiful Princess had vanished, and there was no one to be seen but a
forlorn little beggar-maid creeping away into the darkness.
Poor little Cinderella! - she hurried home through the dark streets,
weary, and overwhelmed with shame.
The fire was out when she reached her home, and there was no godmother
waiting to receive her; but she sat down in the chimney-corner to wait her
sister's return. When they came in they could speak of nothing but the
wonderful things that had happened at the ball.
The beautiful Princess had been there again, they said, but had
disappeared just as the clock struck twelve, and though the Prince had
searched everywhere for her, he had been unable to find her. "He was quite
beside himself with grief," said the elder sister, "for there is no doubt he
hoped to make her his bride."
Cinderella listened in silence to all they had to say, and, slipping her
hand into her pocket, felt that the one remaining glass slipper was safe,
for it was the only thing of all her grand apparel that remained to her.
On the following morning there as a great noise of trumpets and drums,
and a procession passed through the town, at the head of which rode the
King's son. Behind him came a herald, bearing a velvet cushion, upon which
rested a little glass slipper. The herald blew a blast upon the trumpet, and
then read a proclamation saying that the King's son would wed any lady in
the land who could fit the slipper upon her foot, if she could produce
another to match it.
Of course, the sisters tried to squeeze their feet into the slipper, but
it was of no use - they were much too large. Then Cinderella shyly begged
that she might try. How the sisters laughed with scorn when the Prince knelt
to fit the slipper on the cinder-maid's foot; but what was their surprise
when it slipped on with the greatest ease, and the next moment Cinderella
produced the other from her pocket. Once more she stood in the slippers, and
once more the sisters saw before them the lovely Princess who was to be the
Prince's bride. For at the touch of the magic shoes, the little gray flock
disappeared for ever, and in place of it she wore the beautiful robe the
fairy godmother had given to her.
The sisters hung their heads with sorrow and vexation; but kind little
Cinderella put her arms around their necks, kissed them, and forgave them
for all their unkindness, so that they could not help but love her.
The Prince could not bear to part from his little love again, so he
carried her back to the palace in his grand coach, and they were married
that very day. Cinderella's step sisters were present at the feast, but in
the place of honor sat the fairy godmother.
So the poor little cinder-maid married the Prince, and in time they came
to be King and Queen, and lived happily ever after.