Cinderella by - (e ink ebook reader txt) 📕

>refusal, for she would have been sadly put to it if her sister

had lent her what she asked for jestingly.

 

The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was

Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The

King’s son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments

and kind speeches to her, to whom all this was so far from being

tiresome that she quite forgot what her Godmother had recommended

to her, so that she at last counted the clock striking twelve

when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose up and

fled as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not

overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which

the Prince took up most carefully. She got home, but quite out of

breath, and in her old clothes, having nothing left her of all

her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to that she

dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not

seen a Prinecess go out.

 

They said they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very

meanly dressed, and who had more of the air of a poor country

girl than a gentlewoman.

 

When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them

if they had been well diverted and if the beautiful Princess had

been there.

 

They told her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when the

clock struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one

of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which

the King’s son had taken up; that he had done nothing but look at

her all the time at the ball, and that most certainly he was very

much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass

slipper.

 

What they said was very true, for a few days after the King’s son

caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would

marry her whose foot this slipper would just fit. They whom he

employed began to try it upon the Princesses, then the Duchesses

and all the Court, but in vain. It was brought to the two

sisters, who did all they possibly could to thrust their feet

into the slipper, but they could not effect it.

 

On the following morning there was 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 frock disappeared forever, 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 round 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 stepsisters 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.

 

FANNY’S TELEPHONE ORDER.

 

Little Fanny Desmond was a dear child, and, like a good many

other little children, she liked to do whatever she saw the grown

people do.

 

She would listen with great interest when she saw her mother use

the telephone. She was especially surprised when her mother

ordered things, and later in the day they would be brought to the

house.

 

“I wish I had a telephone of my own,” she said to her papa. “Mama

just puts her mouth up to that funny thing, and gets whatever she

asks for. Yesterday she asked somebody to send us ice-cream for

dinner, and sure enough, it came.”

 

Papa laughed. “It does seem a very convenient thing,” he said. “I

will try to arrange one for you.” So papa took a horn which had

been put away in a closet and hung it up where Fanny could talk

into it. “There, that shall be your own private telephone,” he

said.

 

“Now, shall I get whatever I ask for?” said Fanny.

 

“Not if you ask for impossible things,” replied her papa.

 

“But what are impossible things?” asked Fanny.

 

“Well,” laughed papa, “I think if you should ask for the moon you

would not get it.”

 

“But I don’t want the moon,” said Fanny.

 

“Ask for something before I go down-town,” said papa.

 

Fanny thought a moment, and then spoke up quite distinctly:

 

“Please send me some peppermints, and some new shoes for my doll,

and a bunch of pansies for my mama, and a new bicycle for my

papa, and—and—that’s all this time. Good-bye.”

 

“That’s a very good order,” said her papa, “but kiss me good-bye,

for I must be off.”

 

About half an hour later the front door-bell rang. Very soon the

maid appeared with a package directed to Miss Fanny Desmond. In

great excitement, Fanny opened it. It was a box of peppermints.

The child’s delight was great, but when, in another half hour,

there came a bundle which proved to be a new pair of shoes for

her doll, she was too happy for words. But that surprise was

hardly over when another package was brought her. She opened it

in great excitement, and behold there was a bunch of beautiful

pansies.

 

“They are for you, mama,” she cried, “and now everything has come

but papa’s new bicycle.”

 

Just then she looked out of the window, and there was her papa

coming up the drive on a fine new wheel. She rushed down to meet

him, exclaiming, as she threw herself into his arms:

 

“Oh, papa, papa, I did get everything; my telephone is beautiful,

and the man at the other end is just lovely!”

 

“Ah,” said papa, “I am delighted he is so satisfactory.”

 

THE RAINDROPS’ NEW DRESSES.

 

“We’re so tired of these gray dresses!”

Cried the little drops of rain,

As they came down helter-skelter

From the Nimbus cloud fast train.

 

And they bobbed against each other

In a spiteful sort of way,

Just like children when bad temper

Gets the upper hand some day.

 

Then the Sun peeped out a minute.

“Dears, be good and do not fight,

I have ordered you new dresses,

Dainty robes of purest white.”

 

Ah! then all the tiny raindrops

Hummed a merry glad refrain,

And the old folks cried: “How pleasant

Is the music of the rain!”

 

Just at even, when the children

Had been safely tucked in bed,

There was such a rush and bustle

In the dark clouds overhead!

 

Then those raindrops hurried earthward,

At the North Wind’s call, you know,

And the wee folks, in the morning,

Laughed to see the flakes of snow.

 

SIR GOBBLE.

 

Bessie Curtis was in a great deal of trouble. She was spending a

year in the country while her father and mother were in Europe.

It was not that which was troubling her. She liked the country,

she loved her uncle and aunt with whom she lived, and she

heard every week from her father and mother. But something

disturbed her. As the summer passed, and the autumn came, she had

moments when she looked very sober. What was the reason?

 

I will tell you.

 

Early in the spring her uncle had given her a young turkey.

 

“There, Bessie,” he had said, “that is one of the prettiest

turkeys I have ever seen. I will give him into your care, and on

Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the dinner-table.”

 

For some time Bessie fed the turkey every day without feeling

particularly fond of him. Very soon, however, he began to know

her; he not only ran to meet her when she brought him his corn

and meal, but he would follow her about just the way Mary’s

little lamb followed HER about.

 

Her uncle often called after her: “And everywhere that Bessie

goes, the turkey’s sure to go.”

 

Yes, round the garden, up and down the avenue, and even into the

house itself the turkey followed Bessie.

 

Then why was she so sad?

 

Alas! she remembered her uncle’s words when he gave her the

turkey, “On Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the table.”

 

Thanksgiving Day would be here in a week.

 

Now, if Bessie had been like some little girls, she would have

told her trouble to her uncle. But she never mentioned it to any

one, although she cried herself to sleep several nights before

Thanksgiving Day.

 

At last the day came, and Bessie, instead of going out to the

fowlyard as usual, kept in the house all the morning. She was

afraid that, if she went, she would not find her beloved friend.

Dinner-time came, and, with a heavy heart, she seated herself at

the table. Her uncle and aunt noticed her sober face, and thought

that she missed her father and mother.

 

“Come, come, said her uncle, “we must cheer up; no sad looks on

Thanksgiving Day. Maria, BRING IN THE TURKEY.”

 

Poor Bessie! she could not look up as the door opened, and

something was brought in on a big platter. But, as the platter

was placed on the table, she saw that it did indeed hold her

turkey, but he was alive and well.

 

She looked so astonished that suddenly her uncle understood all

her past troubles.

 

“Why, Bessie,” he said, “did you think I would kill your pet? No,

indeed, but I told you he should be on the table Thanksgiving

Day, so here he is.”

 

Then Bessie’s uncle struck the turkey gently with his

carving-knife, the way the queen strikes a man with a sword when

she makes him a knight.

 

“Behold!” said Bessie’s uncle, “I dub you ‘Sir Gobble;’ you shall

never be killed, but die a natural death, and never be parted

from Bessie.”

 

WHAT IS IT?

 

What is that ugly thing I see

Which follows, follows, follows me,

Which ever way I turn or go?

What is that thing? I want to know.

 

If I but turn to left or right

It does the same with all its might;

It looks so ugly and so black

When o’er my shoulder I look back.

 

Sometimes it runs ahead of me,

Sometimes quite short it seems to be,

And then again it’s very tall;

I don’t know what it is at all.

 

I’ll climb into my little bed,

And