Chapter II

_It is later in the evening of the same day, and this is such a street as harbours London’s poor. The windows are so close to us that we could tap on the only one which shows a light. It is on the ground floor, and makes a gallant attempt to shroud this light with articles of apparel suspended within. Seen as shadows through the blind, these are somehow very like Miss Thing, and almost suggest that she has been hanging herself in several places in one of her bouts of energy. The street is in darkness, save for the meagre glow from a street lamp, whose glass is painted red in obedience to war regulations. It is winter time, and there is a sprinkling of snow on the ground._

_Our_ POLICEMAN _appears in the street, not perhaps for the first time this evening, and flashes his lantern on the suspect’s window, whose signboard (boards again!) we now see bears this odd device_,

_Celeste et Cie_. ———— _The Penny Friend._

_Not perhaps for the first time this evening he scratches his head at it. Then he pounds off in pursuit of some client who has just emerged with a pennyworth. We may imagine the two of them in conversation in the next street, the law putting leading questions. Meanwhile the ‘fourth’ wall of the establishment of Celeste dissolves, but otherwise the street is as it was, and we are now in the position of privileged persons looking in at her window. It is a tiny room in which you could just swing a cat, and here_ CINDERELLA _swings cats all and every evening. The chief pieces of furniture are a table and a bench, both of which have a suspicious appearance of having been made out of boards by some handy character. There is a penny in the slot fireplace which has evidently been lately fed, there is a piece of carpet that has been beaten into nothingness, but is still a carpet, there is a hearth rug of brilliant rags that is probably gratified when your toes catch in it and you are hurled against the wall. Two pictures—one of them partly framed—strike a patriotic note, but they may be there purposely to deceive. The room is lit by a lamp, and at first sight presents no sinister aspect unless it comes from four boxes nailed against the walls some five or six feet from the floor. In appearance they are not dissimilar to large grocery boxes, but it is disquieting to note that one of them has been mended with the board we saw lately in_ MR. BODIE’S _studio. When our_ POLICEMAN _comes, as come we may be sure he will, the test of his acumen will be his box action._

_The persons in the room at present have either no acumen or are familiar with the boxes. There are four of them, besides_ CINDERELLA, _whom we catch in the act of adding to her means of livelihood. Celeste et Cie., a name that has caught her delicate fancy while she dashed through fashionable quarters, is the Penny Friend because here everything is dispensed for that romantic coin. It is evident that the fame of the emporium has spread. Three would be customers sit on the bench awaiting their turn listlessly and as genteelly unconscious of each other as society in a dentist’s dining-room, while in the centre is_ CINDERELLA _fitting an elderly gentleman with a new coat. There are pins in her mouth and white threads in the coat, suggesting that this is not her first struggle with it, and one of the difficulties with which she has to contend is that it has already evidently been the coat of a larger man_. CINDERELLA _is far too astute a performer to let it be seen that she has difficulties, however. She twists and twirls her patron with careless aptitude, kneads him if need be, and has him in a condition of pulp while she mutters for her own encouragement and his intimidation the cryptic remarks employed by tailors, as to the exact meaning of which she has already probed_ MR. BODIE.

CINDERELLA (_wandering over her client with a tape_). 35—14. (_She consults a paper on the table._) Yes, it’s 35—14.

(_She pulls him out, contracts him and takes his elbows
measure._)

28—7; 41—12; 15—19. (_There is something wrong, and she has to justify her handiwork._) You was longer when you came on Monday.

GENTLEMAN (_very moved by the importance of the occasion_). Don’t be saying that, Missy.

CINDERELLA (_pinning up the tails of his coat_). Keep still.

GENTLEMAN (_with unexpected spirit_). I warns you, Missy, I won’t have it cut.

CINDERELLA (_an artist_). I’ll give you the bits.

GENTLEMAN. I prefers to wear them.

(_She compares the coat with the picture of an elegant dummy._)

Were you going to make me like that picture?

CINDERELLA. I had just set my heart on copying this one. It’s the Volupty.

GENTLEMAN (_faint-hearted_). I’m thinkin’ I couldn’t stand like that man.

CINDERELLA (_eagerly_). Fine you could—with just a little practice. I’ll let you see the effect.

(_She bends one of his knees, extends an arm and curves the
other till he looks like a graceful teapot. She puts his
stick in one hand and his hat in the other, and he is now
coquettishly saluting a lady._)

GENTLEMAN (_carried away as he looks at himself in a glass_). By Gosh! Cut away, Missy!

CINDERELLA. I’ll need one more try-on. (_Suddenly._) That’s to say if I’m here.

GENTLEMAN (_little understanding the poignancy of the remark_). If it would be convenient to you to have the penny now—

CINDERELLA. No, not till I’ve earned it. It’s my rule. Good night to you, Mr. Jennings.

GENTLEMAN. Good night, Missy.

(_We see him go out by the door and disappear up the street._)

CINDERELLA (_sharply_). Next.

(_An old woman comes to the table and_ CINDERELLA _politely
pretends not to have seen her sitting there_.)

It’s Mrs. Maloney!

MRS. M. Cinders, I have a pain. It’s like a jag of a needle down my side.

CINDERELLA (_with a sinking, for she is secretly afraid of medical cases_). Wait till I pop the therm-mo-mometer in. It’s a real one. (_She says this with legitimate pride. She removes the instrument from_ MRS. MALONEY’S _mouth after a prudent interval, and is not certain what to do next._)

Take a deep breath.... Again.... Say 99. (_Her ear is against the patient’s chest._)

MRS. M. 99.

CINDERELLA (_at a venture_). Oho!

MRS. M. It ain’t there the pain is—it’s down my side.

CINDERELLA (_firmly_). We never say 99 down there.

MRS. M. What’s wrong wi’ me?

CINDERELLA (_candidly_). I don’t want for to pretend, Mrs. Maloney, that the 99 is any guidance to me. I can _not_ find out what it’s for. I would make so bold as to call your complaint muscular rheumatics if the pain came when you coughed. But you have no cough.

MRS. M. (_coming to close quarters_). No, but he has—my old man. It’s him that has the pains, not me.

CINDERELLA (_hurt_). What for did you pretend it was you?

MRS. M. That was his idea. He was feared you might stop his smoking.

CINDERELLA. And so I will.

MRS. M. What’s the treatment?

CINDERELLA (_writing after consideration on a piece of paper_). One of them mustard leaves.

MRS. M. (_taking the paper_). Is there no medicine?

CINDERELLA (_faltering_). I’m a little feared about medicine, Mrs. Maloney.

MRS. M. He’ll be a kind of low-spirited if there’s not a lick of medicine.

CINDERELLA. Have you any in the house?

MRS. M. There’s what was left over of the powders my lodger had when the kettle fell on his foot.

CINDERELLA. You could give him one of them when the cough is troublesome. Good night, Mrs. Maloney.

MRS. M. Thank you kindly. (_She puts a penny on the table._)

CINDERELLA (_with polite surprise_). What’s that?

MRS. M. It’s the penny.

CINDERELLA. So it is! Good night, Mrs. Maloney.

MRS. M. Good night, Cinders.

(_She departs. The penny falls into_ CINDERELLA’S _box with
a pleasant clink_.)

CINDERELLA. Next.

(_A woman of 35 comes forward. She is dejected, thin-lipped,
and unlovable._)

MARION (_tossing her head_). You’re surprised to see _me_, I daresay.

CINDERELLA (_guardedly_). I haven’t the pleasure of knowing you.

MARION (_glancing at the remaining occupant of the bench_). Is that man sleeping? Who is he? I don’t know him.

CINDERELLA. He’s sleeping. What can I do for you?

MARION (_harshly_). Nothing, I daresay. I’m at Catullo’s Buildings. Now they’re turning me out. They say I’m not respectable.

CINDERELLA (_enlightened_). You’re—that woman?

MARION (_defiantly_). That’s me.

CINDERELLA (_shrinking_). I don’t think there’s nothing I could do for you.

MARION (_rather appealing_). Maybe there is. I see you’ve heard my story. They say there’s a man comes to see me at times though he has a wife in Hoxton.

CINDERELLA. I’ve heard.

MARION. So I’m being turned out.

CINDERELLA. I don’t think it’s a case for me.

MARION. Yes, it is.

CINDERELLA. Are you terrible fond of him?

MARION. Fond of him! Damn him!

(CINDERELLA _shrinks_. MARION _makes sure that the man is
asleep_.)

Cinders, they’ve got the story wrong; it’s me as is his wife; I was married to him in a church. He met that woman long after and took up with her.

CINDERELLA. What! Then why do you not tell the truth?

MARION. It’s my pride keeps me from telling. I would rather be thought to be the wrong ’un he likes than the wife the law makes him help.

CINDERELLA. Is that pride?

MARION. It’s all the pride that’s left to me.

CINDERELLA. I’m awful sorry for you, but I can’t think of no advice to give you.

MARION. It’s not advice I want.

CINDERELLA. What is it then?

MARION. It’s pity. I fling back all the gutter words they fling at me, but my heart, Cinders, is wet at times. It’s wet for one to pity me.

CINDERELLA. I pity you.

MARION. You’ll tell nobody?

CINDERELLA. No.

MARION. Can I come in now and again at a time?

CINDERELLA. I’ll be glad to see you—if I’m here.

MARION. I’ll be slipping away now; he’s waking up. (_She puts down her penny._)

CINDERELLA. I’m not doing it for no penny.

MARION. You’ve got to take it. That’s my pride. But—I wish you well, Cinders.

CINDERELLA. I like you. I wish you would wish me luck. Say ‘Good luck to you to-night, Cinderella.’

MARION. Why to-night?

(_The little waif, so practical until now, is afire inside
again. She needs a confidant almost as much as_ MARION.)

CINDERELLA (_hastily_). You see—

(_The man sits up._)

MAN. Good evening, Missis.

MARION. Good luck to you to-night, Cinderella.

(_She goes._)

(_The man slips forward and lifts the penny._)

CINDERELLA (_returning to earth sharply_). Put that down.

MAN. I was only looking at the newness of it. I was just admiring the design.

(_The newness and the design both disappear into the box.
A bearded person wearing the overalls of a sea-faring man
lurches down the street and enters the emporium. Have we
seen him before? Who can this hairy monster be?_)

POLICEMAN (_in an incredibly gruff voice_). I want a pennyworth.

CINDERELLA (_unsuspecting_). Sit down. (_She surveys the coster._) It’s you that belongs to the shirt, isn’t it?

MAN. Yes; is’t ready?

CINDERELLA. It’s ready.

(_It proves to be not a shirt, but a ‘front’ of linen,
very stiff and starched. The laundress cautiously retains
possession of it._)

The charge is a penny.

MAN. On delivery.

CINDERELLA. Before delivery.

MAN. Surely you can trust me.

CINDERELLA. You’ve tried that on before, my man. Never again! All in this street knows my rule,—Trust in the Lord—every other person, cash.

(_A penny and a ‘shirt’ pass between them and he departs._)

(CINDERELLA _turns her attention to the newcomer_.)

What’s your pleasure?

POLICEMAN. Shave, please.

CINDERELLA (_quivering before his beard_). Shave! I shaves in an ordinary way, but I don’t know as I could tackle that.

POLICEMAN. I thought you was a barber.

CINDERELLA (_stung_). I’ll get the lather.

(_She goes doubtfully into what she calls her bedroom._

_He seizes this opportunity to survey the room. A
remarkable man this, his attention is at once riveted on
the boxes, but before he can step on a chair and take a
peep the barber returns with the implements of her calling.
He reaches his chair in time not to be caught by her. She
brings in a bowl of soap and water and a towel, which she
puts round him in the correct manner._)

CINDERELLA. You’re thin on the top.

POLICEMAN (_in his winding sheet_). I’ve all run to beard.

CINDERELLA (_the ever ready_). I have a ointment for the hair; it is my own invention. The price is a penny.

POLICEMAN (_gruffly_). Beard, please.

CINDERELLA. I’ve got some voice drops.

POLICEMAN. Beard, please.

CINDERELLA (_as she prepares the lather_). Is the streets quiet?

POLICEMAN (_cunningly_). Hereabouts they are; but there’s great doings in the fashionable quarters. A ball, I’m told.

CINDERELLA (_gasping_). You didn’t see no peculiar person about in this street?

POLICEMAN. How peculiar?

CINDERELLA. Like a—a flunkey?

POLICEMAN. Did I now—or did I not?

CINDERELLA (_eagerly_). He would be carrying an invite maybe; it’s a big card.

POLICEMAN. I can’t say I saw him.

(_Here an astonishing thing happens. The head of a child
rises from one of the boxes. She is unseen by either of the
mortals._)

CINDERELLA (_considering the beard_). How do I start with the like of this?

POLICEMAN. First you saws....

(_She attempts to saw. The beard comes off in her hand._)

CINDERELLA (_recognising his face_). You!

POLICEMAN (_stepping triumphantly out of his disguise_). Me!

(_As sometimes happens, however, the one who means to
give the surprise gets a greater. At sight of his dreaded
uniform the child screams, whereat two other children in
other boxes bob up and scream also. It is some time before
the policeman can speak._)

So that’s what the boxes was for!

CINDERELLA (_feebly_). Yes.

POLICEMAN (_portentously_). Who and what are these phenomenons?

CINDERELLA (_protectingly_). Don’t be frightened, children. Down!

(_They disappear obediently._)

There’s no wrong in it. They’re just me trying to do my bit. It’s said all should do their bit in war-time. It was into a hospital I wanted to go to nurse the wounded soldiers. I offered myself at every hospital door, but none would have me, so this was all I could do.

POLICEMAN. You’re taking care of them?

(_She nods._)

Sounds all right. Neighbours’ children?

CINDERELLA. The brown box is. She’s half of an orphan, her father’s a bluejacket, so, of course, I said I would.

POLICEMAN. You need say no more. I pass little bluejacket.

CINDERELLA. Those other two is allies. She’s French—and her’s a Belgy—(_calls_). Marie-Therese.

(_The French child sits up._)

Speak your language to the gentleman, Marie-Therese.

MARIE. Bon soir, monsieur—comment portez-vous? Je t’aime. (_She curtseys charmingly to him from the box._)

POLICEMAN. Well, I’m ——d!

CINDERELLA. Delphine.

(_The Belgian looks up._)

Make votre bow.

Gladys!

(_The English child bobs up._)

A friend, Gladys.

(GLADYS _and the policeman grin to each other_.)

GLADYS. What cheer!

CINDERELLA. Monsieur is a Britain’s defender.

MARIE. Oh, la, la! Parlez-vous français, monsieur? Non! I blow you two kisses, monsieur—the one is to you (_kisses hand_) to keep, the other you will give—(_kisses hand_) to Kitch.

POLICEMAN (_writing_). Sends kiss to Lord Kitchener.

CINDERELLA. She’s the one that does most of the talking.

POLICEMAN (_who is getting friendly_). I suppose that other box is an empty.

(CINDERELLA’S _mouth closes_.)

Is that box empty?

CINDERELLA. It’s not exactly empty.

POLICEMAN. What’s inside?

CINDERELLA. She’s the littlest.

(_The children exchange glances and she is severe._)

Couchy.

(_They disappear._)

POLICEMAN. An ally?

CINDERELLA. She’s—she’s—Swiss.

POLICEMAN (_lowering_). Now then!

CINDERELLA. She’s not exactly Swiss. You can guess now what she is.

POLICEMAN (_grave_). This puts me in a very difficult position.

CINDERELLA (_beginning to cry_). Nobody would take her. She was left over. I tried not to take her. I’m a patriot, I am. But there she was—left over—and her so terrible little—I couldn’t help taking her.

POLICEMAN. I dunno. (_Quite unfairly._) If her folk had been in your place and you in hers, they would have shown neither mercy nor pity for you.

CINDERELLA (_stoutly_). That makes no difference.

POLICEMAN (_Was this the great moment?_). I think there’s something uncommon about you.

CINDERELLA (_pleased_). About _me_?

POLICEMAN. I suppose she’s sleeping.

CINDERELLA. Not her!

POLICEMAN. What’s she doing?

CINDERELLA. She’s strafing!

POLICEMAN. Who’s she strafing?

CINDERELLA. Very likely you. She misses nobody. You see I’ve put some barb-wire round her box.

POLICEMAN. I see now.

CINDERELLA. It’s not really barb-wire. It’s worsted. I was feared the wire would hurt her. But it just makes a difference.

POLICEMAN. How do the others get on with her?

CINDERELLA. I makes them get on with her. Of course there’s tongues out, and little things like that.

POLICEMAN. Were the foreign children shy of you at first?

CINDERELLA. Not as soon as they heard my name. ‘Oh, are you Cinderella?’ they said, in their various languages—and ‘when’s the ball?’ they said.

POLICEMAN. Somebody must have telled them about you.

CINDERELLA (_happy_). Not here. They had heard about me in their foreign lands. Everybody knows Cinderella, it’s fine. Even her—(_indicating German_) the moment I mentioned my name—‘Where’s your ugly sisters?’ says she, looking round.

POLICEMAN. Sisters? It’s new to me, your having sisters. (_He produces his note book._)

CINDERELLA (_uneasily_). It’s kind of staggering to me, too. I haven’t been able to manage them yet, but they’ll be at the ball.

POLICEMAN. It’s queer.

CINDERELLA. It _is_ queer.

POLICEMAN. (_sitting down with her_). How do you know this ball’s to-night?

CINDERELLA. It had to be some night. You see, after I closes my business I have chats with the children about things, and naturally it’s mostly about the ball. I put it off as long as I could, but it had to be some night—and this is the night.

POLICEMAN. You mean it’s make-believe?

CINDERELLA (_almost fiercely_). None of that!

POLICEMAN (_shaking his head_). I don’t like it.

CINDERELLA (_shining_). You wouldn’t say that if you heard the blasts on the trumpet and loud roars of ‘Make way for the Lady Cinderella!’

(_Three heads pop up again._)

POLICEMAN. Lady?

CINDERELLA (_in a tremble of exultation_). That’s me. That’s what you’re called at royal balls. Then loud huzzas is heard outside from the excited popu-lace, for by this time the fame of my beauty has spread like wild-fire through the streets, and folks is hanging out at windows and climbing lamp-posts to catch a sight of me.

(_Delight of the children._)

POLICEMAN. My sakes, you see the whole thing clear!

CINDERELLA. I see it from beginning to end—like as if I could touch it—the gold walls and the throne, and the lamp-posts and the horses.

POLICEMAN. The horses?

CINDERELLA. ... Well, the competitors. The speeches—everything. If only I had my invite! That wasn’t a knock at the door, was it?

POLICEMAN (_so carried away that he goes to see_). No.

CINDERELLA (_vindictively_). I daresay that flunkey’s sitting drinking in some public-house.

(_Here_ MARIE-THERESE _and_ GLADYS, _who have been
communicating across their boxes, politely invite the_
POLICEMAN _to go away_.)

MARIE. Bonne nuit, Monsieur.

GLADYS. Did you say you was going, Mister?

POLICEMAN. They’re wonderful polite.

CINDERELLA. I doubt that’s not politeness. The naughties—they’re asking you to go away.

POLICEMAN. Oh! (_He rises with hauteur._)

CINDERELLA. You see we’re to have a bite of supper before I start—to celebrate the night.

POLICEMAN. Supper with the kids! When I was a kid in the country at Badgery—you’ve done it again!

CINDERELLA. Done what?

POLICEMAN (_with that strange feeling of being at home_). I suppose I would be in the way?

CINDERELLA. There’s not very much to eat. There’s just one for each.

POLICEMAN. I’ve had my supper.

CINDERELLA (_seeing her way_). Have you? Then I would be very pleased if you would stay.

POLICEMAN. Thank you kindly.

(_She prepares the table for the feast. Eyes sparkle from
the boxes._)

CINDERELLA (_shining_). This is the first party we’ve ever had. Please keep an eye on the door in case there’s a knock.

(_She darts into her bedroom, and her charges are more at
their ease._)

MARIE (_sitting up, the better to display her nightgown_). Monsieur, Monsieur, Voilà!

GLADYS. Cinderella made it out of watching a shop window.

POLICEMAN (_like one who has known his hostess from infancy_). Just like her.

MARIE (_holding up a finger that is adorned with a ring_). Monsieur!

GLADYS (_more practical_). The fire’s going out.

POLICEMAN (_recklessly_). In with another penny. (_He feeds the fire with that noble coin._) Fellow allies, I’m just going to take a peep into the German trench! Hah!

(_He stealthily mounts a chair and puts his hand into
Gretchen’s box. We must presume that it is bitten by the
invisible occupant, for he withdraws it hurriedly to the
hearty delight of the spectators. This mirth changes to
rapture as_ CINDERELLA _makes a conceited entrance carrying
a jug of milk and five hot potatoes in their jackets.
Handsomely laden as she is, it is her attire that calls
forth the applause. She is now wearing the traditional
short brown dress of_ CINDERELLA, _and her hair hangs
loose. She tries to look modest._)

CINDERELLA (_displaying herself_). What do you think?

POLICEMAN (_again in Badgery_). Great! Turn round. And I suppose you made it yourself out of a shop window?

CINDERELLA. No, we didn’t need no shop window; we all knew exactly what I was wearing when the knock came.

GLADYS. Of course we did.

(_A potato is passed up to each and a cup of milk between
two. There is also a delicious saucerful of melted lard
into which they dip._ GRETCHEN _is now as much in evidence
as the others, and quite as attractive—the fun becomes fast
and furious_.)

CINDERELLA (_to_ POLICEMAN). A potato?

POLICEMAN. No, I thank you.

CINDERELLA. Just a snack?

POLICEMAN. Thank you.

(_She shares with him._)

CINDERELLA. A little dip?

POLICEMAN. No, I thank you.

CINDERELLA. Just to look friendly.

POLICEMAN. I thank you. (_Dipping._) To you, Cinderella.

CINDERELLA. I thank you.

POLICEMAN (_proposing a toast_). The King!

CINDERELLA (_rather consciously_). And the Prince of Wales.

GLADYS. And father.

POLICEMAN. The King, the Prince of Wales, and father.

(_The toast is drunk, dipped and eaten with acclamation._
GLADYS, _uninvited, recites ‘The Mariners of England.’_
MARIE-THERESE _follows (without waiting for the end) with
the Marseillaise, and_ GRETCHEN _puts out her tongue at
both. Our_ POLICEMAN _having intimated that he desires to
propose another toast of a more lengthy character, the
children are lifted down and placed in their nightgowns at
the table_.)

POLICEMAN (_suddenly becoming nervous_). I have now the honour to propose absent friends.

GLADYS (_with an inspiration to which_ MARIE-THERESE _bows elegantly_). Vive la France!

POLICEMAN. I mean our friends at the Front. And they have their children, too. Your boxes we know about, but I daresay there’s many similar and even queerer places, where the children, the smallest of our allies, are sleeping this night within the sound of shells.

MARIE. La petite Belgique. La pauvre enfant!

DELPHINE (_proudly_). Me!

POLICEMAN. So here’s to absent friends—

GLADYS (_with another inspiration_). Absent boxes!

POLICEMAN. Absent boxes! And there’s a party we know about who would like uncommon to have the charge of the lot of them—(_looking at Cinderella_). And I couples the toast with the name of the said party.

CINDERELLA (_giving a pennyworth for nothing_). Kind friends, it would be pretending of me not to let on that I know I am the party referred to by the last speaker—in far too flattersome words. When I look about me and see just four boxes I am a kind of shamed, but it wasn’t very convenient to me to have more. I will now conclude by saying I wish I was the old woman that lived in a shoe, and it doesn’t matter how many I had I would have known fine what to do. The end.

(_After further diversion._) It’s a fine party. I hope your potato is mealy?

POLICEMAN. I never had a better tatie.

CINDERELLA. Don’t spare the skins.

POLICEMAN. But you’re eating nothing yourself.

CINDERELLA. I’m not hungry. And, of course, I’ll be expected to take a bite at the ball.

(_This reminder of the ball spoils the_ POLICEMAN’S _enjoyment_.)

POLICEMAN. I wish—you wasn’t so sure of the ball.

GLADYS (_in defence_). Why shouldn’t she not be sure of it?

DELPHINE. Pourquoi, Monsieur?

CINDERELLA (_rather hotly_). Don’t say things like that here.

MARIE. Has Monsieur by chance seen God-mamma coming?

POLICEMAN. God-mamma?

CINDERELLA. That’s my Godmother; she brings my ball dress and a carriage with four ponies.

GLADYS. Then away she goes to the ball—hooray—hooray!

CINDERELLA. It’s all perfectly simple once Godmother comes.

POLICEMAN (_with unconscious sarcasm_). I can see she’s important.

CINDERELLA (_with the dreadful sinking that comes to her at times_). You think she’ll come, don’t you?

POLICEMAN. Cinderella, your hand’s burning—and in this cold room.

CINDERELLA. Say you think she’ll come.

POLICEMAN. I—well, I.... I....

GLADYS (_imploringly_). Say it, Mister!

DELPHINE (_begging_). Monsieur! Monsieur!

MARIE. If it is that you love me, Monsieur!

POLICEMAN (_in distress_). I question of there was ever before a member of the Force in such a position. (_Yielding._) I expect she’ll come.

(_This settles it in the opinion of the children, but their
eyes are too bright for such a late hour, and they are ordered
to bed. Our_ POLICEMAN _replaces them in their boxes_.)

CINDERELLA. One—two—three . . . couchy!

(_They disappear._)

POLICEMAN (_awkwardly and trying to hedge_). Of course this is an out-of-the-way little street for a Godmother to find.

CINDERELLA. Yes, I’ve thought of that. I’d best go and hang about outside; she would know me by my dress.

POLICEMAN (_hastily_). I wouldn’t do that. It’s a cold night. (_He wanders about the room eyeing her sideways._) Balls is always late things.

CINDERELLA. I’m none so sure. In war-time, you see, with the streets so dark and the King so kind, it would be just like him to begin early and close at ten instead of twelve. I must leave before twelve. If I don’t, there’s terrible disasters happens.

POLICEMAN (_unable to follow this_). The ball might be put off owing to the Prince of Wales being in France.

CINDERELLA. He catched the last boat. I’ll go out and watch.

POLICEMAN (_desperate_). Stay where you are, and—and I’ll have a look for her.

CINDERELLA. You’re too kind.

POLICEMAN. Not at all. I must be stepping at any rate. If I can lay hands on her I’ll march her here, though I have to put the handcuffs on her.

GLADYS (_looking up_). I think I heard a knock!

(_The_ POLICEMAN _looks out, shakes his head, and finally
departs after a queer sort of handshake with_ MISS THING.)

CINDERELLA. He’s a nice man.

GLADYS. Have you known him long?

CINDERELLA (_thinking it out_). A longish time. He’s head of the secret police; him and me used to play together as children down in Badgery. His folks live in a magnificent castle, with two doors. (_She becomes a little bewildered._) I’m all mixed up.

(_The children are soon asleep. She wanders aimlessly to
the door. The wall closes on the little room, and we now
see her standing in the street. Our_ POLICEMAN _returns and
flashes his lantern on her_.)

CINDERELLA. It’s you!

POLICEMAN. It’s me. But there’s no Godmother! There’s not a soul.... No.... Good night, Cinderella. Go inside.

CINDERELLA (_doggedly_). Not me! I don’t feel the cold—not much. And one has to take risks to get a Prince. The only thing I’m feared about is my feet. If they was to swell I mightn’t be able to get the slippers on, and he would have naught to do with me.

POLICEMAN. What slippers? If you won’t go back, I’ll stop here with you.

CINDERELLA. No, I think there’s more chance of her coming if I’m alone.

POLICEMAN. I’m very troubled about you.

CINDERELLA (_wistfully_). Do you think I’m just a liar? Maybe I am. You see I’m all mixed up. I’m sore in need of somebody to help me out.

POLICEMAN. I would do it if I could.

CINDERELLA. I’m sure. (_Anxiously_.) Are you good at riddles?

(_He shakes his head._)

There’s always a riddle before you can marry into a royal family.

POLICEMAN (_with increased gloom_). The whole thing seems to be most terrible difficult.

CINDERELLA. Yes.... Good night.

POLICEMAN. You won’t let me stay with you?

CINDERELLA. No.

(_He puts his lantern on the ground beside her._)

What’s that for?

POLICEMAN (_humbly_). It’s just a sort of guard for you. (_He takes off his muffler and puts it several times round her neck._)

CINDERELLA. Nice!

POLICEMAN. Good luck!

(_She finds it easiest just to nod in reply._)

I wish I was a Prince.

CINDERELLA (_suddenly struck by the idea_). You’re kind of like him.

(_He goes away. She sits down on the step to wait. She
shivers. She takes the muffler off her neck and winds it
round her more valuable feet. She falls asleep._

_Darkness comes, and snow. From somewhere behind, the
shadowy figure of_ CINDERELLA’S _Godmother, beautiful in
a Red Cross Nurse’s uniform, is seen looking benignantly
on the waif_. CINDERELLA _is just a little vague, huddled
form—there is no movement_.)

GODMOTHER. Cinderella, my little godchild!

CINDERELLA (_with eyes unopening_). Is that you, Godmother?

GODMOTHER. It is I; my poor god-daughter is all mixed up, and I have come to help her out.

CINDERELLA. You have been long in coming. I very near gave you up.

GODMOTHER. Sweetheart, I couldn’t come sooner, because in these days, you know, even the fairy godmother is with the Red Cross.

CINDERELLA. Was that the reason? I see now; I thought perhaps you kept away because I wasn’t a good girl.

GODMOTHER. You have been a good brave girl; I am well pleased with my darling godchild.

CINDERELLA. It is fine to be called darling; it heats me up. I’ve been wearying for it, Godmother. Life’s a kind of hard.

GODMOTHER. It will always be hard to you, Cinderella. I can’t promise you anything else.

CINDERELLA. I don’t suppose I could have my three wishes, Godmother.

GODMOTHER. I am not very powerful in these days, Cinderella; but what are your wishes?

CINDERELLA. I would like fine to have my ball, Godmother.

GODMOTHER. You shall have your ball.

CINDERELLA. I would like to nurse the wounded.

GODMOTHER. You shall nurse the wounded.

CINDERELLA. I would like to be loved by the man of my choice, Godmother.

GODMOTHER. You shall be loved by the man of your choice.

CINDERELLA. Thank you kindly. The ball first, if you please, and could you squeeze in the children so that they may see me in my glory.

GODMOTHER. Now let this be my downtrodden godchild’s ball, not as balls are, but as they are conceived to be in a little chamber in Cinderella’s head.

(_She fades from sight. In the awful stillness we can
now hear the tiny clatter of horses infinitely small and
infinitely far off. It is the equipage of_ CINDERELLA.
_Then an unearthly trumpet sounds thrice, and the darkness
is blown away._

_It is the night of the most celebrated ball in history,
and we see it through our heroine’s eyes. She has, as it
were, made everything with her own hands, from the cloths
of gold to the ices._

_Nearly everything in the ball-room is of gold: it was
only with an effort that she checked herself from dabbing
gold on the regal countenances. You can see that she has
not passed by gin-palaces without thinking about them.
The walls and furniture are so golden that you have but
to lean against them to acquire a competency. There is a
golden throne with gold cloths on it, and the royal seats
are three golden rocking chairs; there would be a fourth
golden rocking chair if it were not that_ CINDERELLA _does
not want you to guess where she is to sit. These chairs
are stuffed to a golden corpulency. The panoply of the
throne is about twenty feet high—each foot of pure gold;
and nested on the top of it is a golden reproduction of
the grandest thing_ CINDERELLA _has ever seen—the private
box of a theatre. In this box sit, wriggle, and sprawl
the four children in their nightgowns, leaning over the
golden parapet as if to the manner born and carelessly
kicking nuggets out of it. They are shouting, pointing, and
otherwise behaving badly, eating oranges out of paper bags,
then blowing out the bags and bursting them. The superb
scene is lit by four street lamps with red glass. Dancing
is going on: the ladies all in white, the gentlemen in
black with swords. If you were unused to royal balls you
would think every one of these people was worth describing
separately; but, compared to what is coming, it may be said
that_ CINDERELLA _has merely pushed them on with her lovely
foot. They are her idea of courtiers, and have anxious
expressions as if they knew she was watching them. They
have character in the lump, if we may put it that way,
but none individually. Thus one cannot smile or sigh, for
instance, without all the others smiling or sighing. At
night they probably sleep in two large beds, one for ladies
and one for gentlemen, and if one of the ladies, say, wants
to turn round, she gives the signal, and they all turn
simultaneously. As children they were not like this; they
had genuine personal traits, but these have gradually been
blotted out as they basked in royal favour; thus, if the_
KING _wipes his glasses they all pretend that their glasses
need wiping, and when the_ QUEEN _lets her handkerchief
fall they all stoop loyally to pick up their own_.

_Down the golden steps at the back comes the_ LORD MAYOR,
_easily recognisable by his enormous chain_.)

LORD MAYOR. O yes, O yes, make way everyone for the Lord Mayor—namely myself.

(_They all make way for him. Two black boys fling open
lovely curtains._)

O yes, O yes, make way every one, and also myself, for Lord Times.

(_This is a magnificent person created by_ CINDERELLA _on
learning from_ MR. BODIE _that the press is all powerful
and that the ‘Times’ is the press. He carries one hand
behind his back, as if it might be too risky to show the
whole of himself at once, and it is noticeable that as he
walks his feet do not quite touch the ground. He is the
only person who is not a little staggered by the amount
of gold: you almost feel that he thinks there is not
quite enough of it. He very nearly sits down on one of
the royal rocking chairs: and the_ LORD MAYOR, _looking
red and unhappy, and as if he had now done for himself,
has to whisper to him that the seats under the throne are
reserved_.)

O yes, O yes, make way for the Censor.

(CINDERELLA _has had a good deal of trouble over this
person, of whom she has heard a great deal in war-time,
without meeting anyone who can tell her what he is like.
She has done her best, and he is long and black and thin,
dressed as tightly as a fish, and carries an executioner’s
axe. All fall back from him in fear, except_ LORD TIMES,
_who takes a step forward, and then the_ CENSOR _falls
back_.)

O yes, O yes, make way everybody for his Royal Highness the King, and his good lady the Queen.

(_The_ KING _and_ QUEEN _are attired like their portraits
on playing cards, who are the only royalties_ CINDERELLA
_has seen, and they advance grandly to their rocking
chairs, looking as if they thought the whole public was
dirt, but not so much despised dirt as dirt with good
points._ LORD TIMES _fixes them with his eye, and the_ KING
_hastily crosses and shakes hands with him_.)

O yes, O yes, make way everyone, except the King, and Queen, and Lord Times, for His Highness Prince Hard-to-Please.

(_The heir apparent comes, preceded by trumpeters. His
dress may a little resemble that of the extraordinary
youth seen by_ CINDERELLA _in her only pantomime, but
what quite takes our breath away is his likeness to our_
POLICEMAN. _If the ball had taken place a night earlier
it may be hazarded that the_ PRINCE _would have presented
quite a different face. It is as if_ CINDERELLA’S _views of
his personality had undergone some unaccountable change,
confusing even to herself, and for a moment the whole scene
rocks, the street lamps wink, and odd shadows stalk among
the courtiers, shadows of_ MR. BODIE, MARION, _and the
party in an unfinished coat, who have surely no right to be
here. This is only momentarily; then the palace steadies
itself again._

_The_ KING _rises, and in stately manner addresses his
guests in the words Cinderella conceives to be proper
to his royal mouth. As he stands waiting superbly for
the applause to cease, he holds on to a strap hanging
conveniently above his head. To_ CINDERELLA _strap-hanging
on the Underground has been a rare and romantic privilege._)

KING. My loyal subjects, all ’ail! I am as proud of you as you are of me. It gives me and my good lady much pleasure to see you ’ere by special invite, feasting at our expense. There is a paper bag for each, containing two sandwiches, buttered on both sides, a piece of cake, a hard-boiled egg, and an orange or a banana.

(_The cheers of the delighted courtiers gratify him, but
the vulgar children over his head continue their rub-a-dub
on the parapet until he glares up at them. Even then they
continue._)

Ladies and Gents all, pleasant though it is to fill up with good victuals, that is not the chief object of this royal invite. We are ’ere for a solemn purpose, namely, to find a mate for our noble son. All the beauties are waiting in the lobby: no wonder he is excited.

(_All look at the_ PRINCE, _who is rocking and yawning_.)

He will presently wake up; but first I want to say—(_here he becomes conscious of_ LORD TIMES). What is it?

LORD TIMES. Less talk.

KING. Certainly. (_He sits down._)

PRINCE (_encouraged to his feet by various royal nudges_). My liege King and Queen-Mother, you can have the competitors brought in, and I will take a look at them; but I have no hope. My curse is this, that I am a scoffer about females. I can play with them for a idle hour and then cast them from me even as I cast this banana skin. I can find none so lovely that I may love her for aye from the depths of my passionate heart. I am so blasted particular. O yes! O yes! (_He sits down and looks helpless._)

KING (_undismayed_). All ready?

(_The_ LORD MAYOR _bows_.)

All is ready, my son.

PRINCE (_bored_). Then let loose the Beauts.

(_To heavenly music from the royal hurdy-gurdies the_
BEAUTIES _descend the stairs, one at a time. There are a
dozen of the fine creatures, in impudent confections such
as_ CINDERELLA _has seen in papers in_ MR. BODIE’S _studio;
some of them with ropes of hair hanging down their proud
backs as she has seen them in a hair-dresser’s window. As
we know, she has once looked on at a horse show, and this
has coloured her conception of a competition for a prince.
The ladies prance round the ball-room like high-stepping
steeds; it is evident that_ CINDERELLA _has had them fed
immediately before releasing them; her pride is to show
them at their very best, and then to challenge them._

_They paw the floor wantonly until_ LORD TIMES _steps
forward. Peace thus restored_, HIS MAJESTY _proceeds_.)

KING. The first duty of a royal consort being to be _good_, the test of goodness will now be applied by the Lord Mayor. Every competitor who does not pass in goodness will be made short work of.

(_Several ladies quake, and somewhere or other unseen_
CINDERELLA _is chuckling_.)

ONE OF THE STEEDS. I wasn’t told about this. It isn’t fair.

LORD MAYOR (_darkly_). If your Grace wishes to withdraw—

(_She stamps._)

KING. The Lord Mayor will now apply the test.

LORD MAYOR (_to a gold page_). The therm-mo-ometers, boy!

(_A whole boxful of thermometers is presented to him by
the page on bended knee. The_ LORD MAYOR _is now in his
element. He has ridden in gold coaches and knows what
hussies young women often are. To dainty music he trips up
the line of beauties and pops a tube into each pouting
mouth. The competitors circle around, showing their paces
while he stands, watch in hand, giving them two minutes.
Then airily he withdraws the tubes; he is openly gleeful
when he finds sinners. Twice he is in doubt, it is a very
near thing, and he has to consult the_ KING _in whispers:
the_ KING _takes the_ QUEEN _aside, to whisper behind
the door as it were; then they both look at_ LORD TIMES,
_who, without even stepping forward, says ‘No’—and the
doubtfuls are at once bundled out of the chamber with the
certainties. Royalty sighs, and the courtiers sigh and
the_ LORD MAYOR _sighs in a perfunctory way, but there
is a tossing of manes from the beauties who have scraped
through_.)

KING (_stirring up the_ PRINCE, _who has fallen asleep_). Our Royal Bud will now graciously deign to pick out a few possibles.

(_His Royal Highness yawns._)

LORD MAYOR (_obsequiously_). If your Highness would like a little assistance—

PRINCE (_you never know how they will take things_). We shall do this for ourselves, my good fellow.

(_He smacks the_ LORD MAYOR’S _face with princely elegance.
The_ LORD MAYOR _takes it as a favour, and the courtiers
gently smack each other’s faces and are very proud to
be there. The_ PRINCE _moves languidly down the line of
beauties considering their points, occasionally nodding
approval but more often screwing up his nose. The courtiers
stand ready with nods or noses. Several ladies think
they have been chosen, but he has only brought them into
prominence to humiliate them; he suddenly says ‘Good-bye,’
and they have to go, while he is convulsed with merriment.
He looks sharply at the courtiers to see if they are
convulsed also, and they are. The others are flung out._)

QUEEN (_hanging on to her strap_). Does our Royal one experience no palpitation at all?

PRINCE (_sleepily_). Ah me, ah me!

LORD TIMES (_irritated_). You’re well called ’Ard-to-Please. You would turn up your nose at a lady though she were shaped like Apollo’s bow.

(_The_ PRINCE _shrugs his shoulder to indicate that love
cannot be forced_.)

LORD MAYOR (_darkly_). And now we come to the severer test.

(_With a neat action, rather like taking a lid off a pot,
the_ LORD MAYOR _lets it be known to the ladies that
they must now lift their skirts to show their feet. When
this devastating test is concluded, there are only two
competitors left in the room._)

LORD TIMES (_almost as if he were thinking of himself_). Can’t have Two.

(_Cards such as_ CINDERELLA _saw at the horse show, with
‘1st,’ ‘2nd,’ and ‘3rd’ on them, are handed to the_ PRINCE.
_Like one well used to such proceedings, he pins 2nd and
3rd into the ladies’ bodices._)

QUEEN (_gloomily_). But still no first.

(_The_ CHILDREN _applaud; they have been interfering
repeatedly_.)

KING. Come, come, proud youth, you feel no palps at all?

PRINCE. Not a palp. Perhaps for a moment this one’s nose—that one’s cock of the head—But it has passed.

(_He drearily resumes his rocking chair. No one seems to
know what to do next._)

MARIE (_to the rescue_). The two Ugly Sisters! Monsieur le Roi, the two Ugly Sisters! (_She points derisively at the winners._)

KING (_badgered_). How did these children get their invites?

(_This is another thing that no one knows. Once more the
room rocks, and_ MR. BODIE _passes across it as if looking
for some one. Then a growing clamour is heard outside.
Bugles sound. The_ LORD MAYOR _goes and returns with
strange news_.)

LORD MAYOR. Another competitor, my King. Make way for the Lady Cinderella!

KING. Cinderella? I don’t know her.

GLADYS (_nearly falling out of the box_). You’ll soon know her. Now you’ll see! Somebody wake the Prince up.

(_The portals are flung open, and_ CINDERELLA _is seen
alighting from her lovely equipage, which we will not
describe because some one has described it before. But
note the little waggle of her foot just before she favours
the ground. We have thought a great deal about how our_
CINDERELLA _should be dressed for this occasion: white of
course, and she looked a darling in it, but we boggle at
its really being of the grandest stuff and made in the shop
where the Beauties got theirs. No, the material came from
poorer warehouses in some shabby district not far from the
street of the penny shop; her eyes had glistened as she
gazed at it through the windows, and she paid for it with
her life’s blood, and made the frock herself. Very possibly
it was bunchy here and there._

CINDERELLA _then comes sailing down into the ball-room, not
a sound to be heard except the ecstatic shrieks of the four
children. She is modest but calmly confident; she knows
exactly what to do. She moves once round the room to show
her gown, then curtseys to the Royal personages; then,
turning to the_ LORD MAYOR, _opens her mouth and signs to
him to pop in the thermometer. He does it as in a dream.
Presently he is excitedly showing the thermometer to the_
KING.)

KING. Marvellous! 99!

(_The cry is repeated from all sides. The_ QUEEN _hands
the_ KING _a long pin from her coiffure, and the_ PRINCE
_is again wakened_.)

PRINCE (_with his hand to his brow_). What, another! Oh, all right; but you know this is a dog’s life. (_He goes to_ CINDERELLA, _takes one glance at her and resumes his chair_.)

LORD MAYOR (_while the children blub_). That settles it, I think. (_He is a heartless fellow._) That will do. Stand back, my girl.

CINDERELLA (_calmly_). I don’t think.

KING. It’s no good, you know.

CINDERELLA (_curtseying_). Noble King, there is two bits of me thy son hath not yet seen. I crave my rights. (_She points to the two bits referred to, which are encased in the loveliest glass slippers._)

KING. True. Boy, do your duty.

PRINCE. Oh, bother!

(_Those words are the last spoken by him in his present
state. When we see him again, which is the moment
afterwards, he is translated. He looks the same, but so
does a clock into which new works have been put. The change
is effected quite simply by_ CINDERELLA _delicately raising
her skirt and showing him her foot. As the exquisite nature
of the sight thus vouchsafed to him penetrates his being a
tremor passes through his frame; his vices take flight from
him and the virtues enter. It is a heady wakening, and he
falls at her feet. The courtiers are awkward, not knowing
whether they should fall also._ CINDERELLA _beams to the
children, who utter ribald cries of triumph_.)

KING (_rotating on his strap_). Give him air! Fill your lungs, my son!

QUEEN (_on hers_). My boy! My boy!

LORD MAYOR (_quickly taking the royal cue_). Oh, lady fair!

(_The_ PRINCE’S _palpitations increase in violence_.)

QUEEN. Oh, happy sight!

KING. Oh, glorious hour!

LORD MAYOR (_not sure that he was heard the first time_). Oh, lady fair!

(_The_ PRINCE _springs to his feet. He is looking very
queer_.)

LORD TIMES (_probably remembering how he looked once_). The Prince is about to propose!

LORD MAYOR. O yes, O yes, O yes!

KING. Proceed, my son.

PRINCE (_with lover-like contortions and addressing himself largely to the feet_). Dew of the morning, garden of delight, sweet petals of enchanted nights, the heavens have opened and through the chink thou hast fallen at my feet, even as I fall at thine. Thou art not one but twain, and these the twain—Oh, pretty feet on which my lady walks, are they but feet? O no, O no, O no! They are so small I cannot see them. Hie! A candle that I may see my lady’s feet!

(_He kisses one foot, and she holds up the other for similar
treatment._)

O Cinderella, if thou wilt deign to wife with me, I’ll do my best to see that through the years you always walk on kisses.

(_The courtiers resolve to walk on kisses for evermore._)

LORD MAYOR. The Prince has proposed. The Lady Cinderella will now reply.

KING. Lovely creature, take pity on my royal son.

QUEEN. Cinderella, be my daughter.

LORD TIMES (_succinctly_). Yes, or no?

CINDERELLA. There’s just one thing. Before I answer, I would like that little glass thing to be put in his mouth.

LORD MAYOR (_staggered_). The Ther-mo-mo-meter?

KING. In our _Prince’s_ mouth!

LORD TIMES. Why not?

CINDERELLA. Just to make sure that he is good.

PRINCE (_with a sinking_). Oh, I say!

QUEEN. Of course he is good, Cinderella—he is our son.

CINDERELLA (_doggedly_). I would like it put in his mouth.

KING. But—

PRINCE (_alarmed_). Pater!

LORD TIMES. It must be done.

(_The test is therefore made. The royal mouth has to open
to the thermometer, which is presently passed to the_ KING
_for examination. He looks very grave. The_ PRINCE _seizes
the tell-tale thing, and with a happy thought lets it fall_.)

PRINCE. 99!

(_The joyous cry is taken up by all, and_ CINDERELLA _goes
divinely on one knee to her lord and master_.)

CINDERELLA (_simply_). I accepts.

KING (_when the uproar has ceased_). All make merry! The fire is going low. (_Recklessly._) In with another shilling!

(_A shilling is dumped into the shilling-in-the-slot stove,
which blazes up. The_ PRINCE _puts his arm round his love_.)

LORD TIMES (_again remembering his day of days_). My Prince, not so fast. There is still the riddle.

PRINCE. I had forgotten.

CINDERELLA (_quaking_). I was feared there would be a riddle.

KING (_prompted by_ LORD TIMES). Know ye all, my subjects, that before blue blood can wed there is a riddle; and she who cannot guess it—(_darkly_) is taken away and censored.

(_The_ CENSOR _with his axe comes into sudden prominence
behind_ CINDERELLA _and the two other competitors_.)

My Lord Times, the riddle!

LORD TIMES. I hold in my one hand the riddle, and in the other the answer in a sealed envelope, to prevent any suspicion of hanky-panky. Third prize, forward! Now, my child, this is the riddle. On the night of the Zeppelin raids, what was it that everyone rushed to save first?

3RD PRIZE. The children.

LORD TIMES. Children not included.

(_The lady is at a loss._)

PRINCE. Time’s up! Hoo-ray!

(_He signs callously to the_ CENSOR, _who disappears with
his victim through a side door, to reappear presently,
wiping his axe and skipping gaily_.)

LORD TIMES. Second prize, forward. Now, Duchess, answer.

2ND PRIZE. Her jewels!

(LORD TIMES _shakes his head_.)

PRINCE (_brightly_). Off with her head! Drown her in a bucket!

(_The_ CENSOR _again removes the lady and does his fell work_.)

LORD TIMES. First prize, forward. Now, Cinderella, answer.

(_The_ CENSOR, _a kindly man but used to his calling, puts
his hand on her shoulder, to lead her away. She removes it
without looking at him._)

CINDERELLA. It’s not a catch, is it?

LORD TIMES (_hotly_). No, indeed.

CINDERELLA. There’s just one thing all true Britons would be anxious about.

KING (_who has been allowed to break the envelope and read the answer_). But what, Cinderella—what?

LORD MAYOR (_hedging again_). What, chit?

CINDERELLA. Their love-letters.

KING and LORD TIMES (_together, but_ LORD TIMES _a little in front_). The fair Cinderella has solved the riddle!

LORD MAYOR (_promptly_). Oh, fair lady!

CINDERELLA (_remembering the Venus_). There’s just one thing that makes it not quite a perfect ball. I wanted Mrs. Bodie to be one of the competitors—so as I could beat her.

KING. Send for her at once. Take a taxi.

(_A courtier rushes out whistling, and returns with_ VENUS,
_now imbued with life. Her arms go out wantonly to the_
PRINCE. _He signs to the_ CENSOR, _who takes her away and
breaks her up_.)

PRINCE. I crave a boon. The wedding at once, my lord.

(LORD TIMES _signifies assent_.)

KING. The marriage ceremony will now take place.

CINDERELLA (_calling to the children_). Bridesmaids!

(_They rush down and become her bridesmaids. At the top of
the stair appears a penguin—a penguin or a bishop, they
melt into each other on great occasions. The regal couple
kneel._)

PENGUIN. Do you, O Prince, take this lady to be your delightful wife—and to adore her for ever?

PRINCE. I do, I do! Oh, I do, I do indeed! I do—I do—I do!

PENGUIN. Do you, Cinderella, loveliest of your sex, take this Prince for husband, and to love, honour, and obey him?

CINDERELLA (_primly_). If you please.

PENGUIN. The ring?

(_It is_ MARIE-THERESE’S _great hour; she passes her ring
to_ CINDERELLA, _who is married in it. Triumphant music
swells out as a crown is put upon our Princess’s head, and
an extraordinary long train attached to her person. Her
husband and she move dreamily round the ball-room, the
children holding up the train._ LORD TIMES _with exquisite
taste falls in behind them. Then follow the courtiers, all
dreamily; and completing the noble procession is the_ LORD
MAYOR, _holding aloft on a pole an enormous penny. It has
the face of_ CINDERELLA _on one side of it—the penny which
to those who know life is the most romantic of coins unless
its little brother has done better._

_The music, despite better intentions, begins to lose its
head. It obviously wants to dance. Everyone wants to dance.
Even_ LORD TIMES _has trouble with his legs_.)

KING (_threatening, supplicating_). Don’t dance yet. I’ve got a surprise for you. Don’t dance. I haven’t told you about it, so as to keep you on the wonder.

(_In vain do they try to control themselves._)

It’s ices!

(_All stop dancing._)

(_Hoarsely._) There’s an ice-cream for everybody.

(_Amid applause the royal ice-cream barrow is wheeled on by
haughty menials who fill the paper sieves with dabs of the
luscious condiment. The paper sieves are of gold, but there
are no spoons. The children, drunk with expectation, forget
their manners and sit on the throne. Somehow_ CINDERELLA’S
_penny clients drift in again, each carrying a sieve._)

None touches till one royal lick has been taken by us four.... (_He gives them a toast._) To the Bridal Pair!

(_At the royal word ‘Go!’_ ALL _attack the ices with their
tongues, greedily but gracefully. They end in the approved
manner by gobbling up the sieves. It is especially charming
to see the last of_ LORD TIME’S _sieve unbend. The music
becomes irresistible. If you did not dance you would be
abandoned by your legs. It is as if a golden coin had
been dropped into a golden slot. Ranks are levelled. The_
KING _asks_ GLADYS _for this one; the_ QUEEN _is whisked
away by_ MR. BODIE. _Perhaps they dance like costers: if
you had time to reflect you might think it a scene in the
streets. It becomes too merry to last; couples are whirled
through the walls as if the floor itself were rotating:
soon_ CINDERELLA _and her_ PRINCE _dance alone. It is then
that the clock begins to strike twelve._ CINDERELLA _should
fly now, or woe befall her. Alas, she hears nothing save
the whispers of her lover. The hour has struck, and her
glorious gown shrinks slowly into the tattered frock of a
girl with a broom. Too late she huddles on the floor to
conceal the change. In another moment the_ PRINCE _must
see. The children gather round her with little cries, and,
spreading out their nightgowns to conceal her, rush her
from the scene. It is then that the_ PRINCE _discovers his
loss. In a frenzy he calls her sweet name. The bewildered
girl has even forgotten to drop the slipper, without
which he shall never find her._ MARIE-THERESE, _the
ever-vigilant, steals back with it, and leaves it on the
floor_.

_The ball-room is growing dark. The lamps have gone out.
There is no light save the tiniest glow, which has been
showing on the floor all the time, unregarded by us. It
seems to come from a policeman’s lantern. The gold is all
washed out by the odd streaks of white that come down like
rain. Soon the_ PRINCE’S _cry of_ ‘CINDERELLA, CINDERELLA’
_dies away. It is no longer a ball-room on which the
lantern sheds this feeble ray. It is the street outside_
CINDERELLA’S _door, a white street now, silent in snow. The
child in her rags, the policeman’s scarf still round her
precious feet, is asleep on the door step, very little life
left in her, very little oil left in the lantern._)