Fairy Tales for Young Readers Read Free Page A

dear herald,” said the Prince, sitting on the edge of his bed in his blue satin dressing-gown sewn with seed-pearls, and waggling the toes of his gold-embroidered slippers, “you saw that strange Princess last night...? Well...”
    â€œBless you, your Highness,” said the herald, who was about the same age as the Prince, “I know all about it. Lost lady. Love of a life. No expense spared. Return and all will be forgotten and forgiven. You want to find her?”
    â€œI should think I did!”
    â€œWell, it’s quite simple. What’s that sparklety thing sticking out of the breast pocket of your dressing-gown?”
    â€œYes,” said the Prince oddly, and drew out Cinderella’s slipper.
    â€œWell, then!” said the herald, and unfolded his idea, which pleased Prince Charming so much that within an hour the herald had set out, with the glass slipper borne before him on a blue cushion with a fringe of peacock’s feathers, and the trumpets blowing like grampuses, and the pennons flying like pretty pigeons all about him, to find the lady whose foot that slipper would fit. For in those days shoes were not sold ready-made in shops, but were made specially to fit the people who were to wear them. And besides, the glass slipper was magic, and so had too much sense to have fitted any one but its owner, even if the country had been full of shops selling Rats’ Ready-made Really Reliable Boots.

    The herald called at every house, great and small, and every girl in every house had to try on the slipper. At last, when it was evening, and he was getting very tired of the whole business, and was beginning to wish that shoes had never been invented at all, he came to the house where Cinderella lived.
    Blow, blow! went the trumpets; flutter, flutter, went the pennons; and the herald’s voice, rather faint and husky, cried:
    â€œOyez, oyez, oyez! Prince Charming offers his hand and heart to the lady who can wear this little glass slipper. Who’ll try? Who’ll try? Who’ll try? Will ye try? Will ye try? Will ye try, try, try?” So that he sounded like a butcher in the Old Kent Road of a Saturday night, only they say “buy” instead of “try.”
    Dressalinda and Marigolda pushed and hustled Cinderella to make her open the door quickly. She was quite as anxious as they were to open it, for reasons of her own—reasons which you know as well as she did.
    So the door was thrown open, and in came the herald, and the trumpeters and men-at-arms grouped themselves picturesquely about the doorsteps, to the envy and admiration of the neighbours.
    Dressalinda sat down in the big carved chair in the hall, and stuck out a large stout foot.
    â€œNo good,” said the herald. “I’m sorry, miss. It’s a fine foot—as fine as ever I saw—but it’s not just the cut for the glass slipper.”
    And even Dressalinda had to own that it wasn’t.
    Then Marigolda tried. And though she had had time to slip upstairs and put on her best fine silk stockings the little glass slipper would not begin to go on to her long flat foot.
    â€œIt’s the heel, miss,” said the herald. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault, nor yours either. We can’t help our heels, nor yet other people’s. So now for the other girl.”
    â€œWhat other girl?” “There is no other girl,” said the two sisters together.

    But the herald said, “What about the one who opened
    the door?”
    â€œOh, that was only Cinderella,” “Just a kitchen wench,” said Marigolda and Dressalinda, tossing their heads.
    â€œThere’s many a pretty foot under a ragged skirt,” said the herald; and he went to the top of the kitchen stairs, and called “Cinderella! Cinderella!”—not because he thought it at all possible that the slipper would fit a kitchen wench, but because he had undertaken to try it on all