Chapter VII: Part 7

But it so chanced the Sultan noticed how she came day after day with the covered dish in her hands, and he grew curious as to who she was and what she wanted. At last he spoke to his Grand Vizier about her, and commanded that she should be brought before him.

This was done, but the poor woman was so frightened by the honor done her that she stood there trembling and unable to say a word.

The Sultan saw her terror and spoke to her gently. “My good woman,” said he, “do not be afraid. Tell me why you have come here day after day. Is there something you wish to ask of me?”

“There is indeed something that I wish to ask, and yet I dare not,” said the widow.

The Sultan, however, encouraged her. “Speak,” said he. “Do not be afraid. Tell me what you wish.”

“My son,” said the widow, “wishes to marry the Princess Buddir al Baddoor, and I have come here to ask you to give her to him as a wife; and my son also sends this small present, which he begs you to accept.”

When this widow, so poor and meanly dressed, said that her son wished to marry the Princess the Sultan could hardly keep from laughing; but when she uncovered the dish of jewels he was amazed. He took up one after another and examined it with admiration. He turned to the Vizier, who stood beside him: “Never in all my life before,” said he, “have I seen such beautiful jewels. Truly a man who can send me such a gift as this is worthy to have a princess for a wife. Do you not agree with me?”

When the Grand Vizier heard this he was troubled. He had indeed hoped that his own son might marry the Princess. Now he said, “Your Majesty, these jewels are indeed very wonderful; but we know nothing of the man who sent them. He may be only some beggarly rogue who has stolen them.”

“That is true,” said the Sultan. He thought for a moment, still turning the jewels with his fingers. Then he said to the woman, “I am indeed very much pleased with the gift your son has sent me. Go back and tell him I am inclined to give him the Princess for a wife, but first he must send me forty basins of massy gold filled with the same sort of jewels as these. If he can do this I will gladly have him for a son-in-law.”

The widow returned home and told her son what the Sultan had said. Aladdin was overjoyed when he heard the message. He now felt sure that before long he would be married to the Princess. He took the lamp and rubbed it, and at once the genie appeared.

“What dost thou wish?” asked the genie. “I and the other slaves of the lamp are ready to serve thee in all things.”

“I wish,” said Aladdin, “for forty basins of massy gold, filled with jewels such as I gathered in the garden. I also wish for forty black slaves, magnificently dressed, to carry the basins, and forty white slaves, also magnificently dressed and mounted on fine horses, to ride before them and behind.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.

At once he disappeared, but almost in a moment of time a long procession of slaves appeared in the street where Aladdin lived and gathered before his house. There were forty black slaves, magnificently dressed, and each bearing on his head a golden basin filled with jewels even more magnificent than those Aladdin had gathered for himself, and there were also forty white slaves, mounted on horses, to ride before them and behind.

When Aladdin saw these slaves and the jewels they bore his eyes sparkled with joy. He at once commanded them to march to the palace and present the jewels to the Sultan, and the widow herself hastened away, so as to reach the palace at the same time that they did.

The slaves set out through the city; a great crowd followed them, shouting and rejoicing, for never had such a sight been seen there before.

The Sultan heard the sound of huzzahing and wondered what was the reason for it. But when the slaves entered the palace bearing their basins of jewels he himself was filled with wonder and admiration. He turned to his Vizier. “Surely,” said he, “anyone who can send me such a gift as this is worthy of the Princess Buddir al Baddoor;” and though the Vizier could hardly hide his envy he was obliged to agree with his master.

When Aladdin heard that the Sultan had consented to his marriage with the Princess he could hardly contain his joy. He at once rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared he commanded him to bring him the most magnificent clothes, such as were suitable for a Sultan’s son to wear, also a handsome horse for him to ride upon, and a troop of horsemen, handsomely dressed to ride with him.

All this the genie did, and after Aladdin had bathed in a scented bath, and had dressed himself in his magnificent garments he was so handsome and noble-looking that his old friends would not have known him.

He rode away to the palace, and there the Sultan received him with the greatest respect and honor. He would have married Aladdin to his daughter at once, but this Aladdin did not wish.

“Your Majesty,” said he, “greatly as I long to see the Princess Buddir al Baddoor I wish first to provide a palace for us to live in when we are married. For this purpose I beg of your Majesty to give me a plot of ground where I can build it.”

The Sultan was surprised and disappointed when he heard this. He thought it would take years to build a palace, and he could not understand how Aladdin could want to wait that long before marrying the Princess. However, he gave him the ground he asked for.

Aladdin then returned home and rubbed the lamp. At once the genie appeared before him, and asked him what were his commands.

“I command you,” said Aladdin, “to build me immediately a castle twice as handsome as that of the Sultan. I wish it to be furnished throughout in the most magnificent manner, and I also wish for a proper number of servants and guards to take charge of it. There must also be gardens around it with fountains and trees and flowers, and stables full of handsome horses, and above all there must be a treasure-house filled with gold and silver and precious stones.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie; and at once he disappeared.

The next morning, when the Sultan awoke and looked from the window, he could hardly believe his eyes. He stared, and rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There, upon the bare piece of ground he had given to Aladdin, stood a great palace glittering with gold and silver and precious stones. It was far more magnificent than his own, and it had been built in one single night.

The Sultan at once sent for Aladdin, and when he came the Sultan made the tailor’s son sit beside him, and talked with him as an equal. “My dear Aladdin,” said he, “you are indeed a very wonderful man, and it is only fitting that the most beautiful princess in the world should be your wife, and you shall be as dear to me as though you were my own son.”

That very day Aladdin and the Princess were married, and went to live in the magic palace, and as they loved each other dearly nothing could equal their happiness. Aladdin felt so secure in his good fortune that he never even thought of the magician or wondered whether he might some day come to claim the lamp.

The magician had indeed left China soon after his adventure with Aladdin. He journeyed back and forth over the earth in many places, and at last in his wanderings he came again to the city where he had met Aladdin. There he heard much talk of how a poor lad had married the daughter of the Sultan, and of the magnificent palace he had built. The magician never thought that Aladdin might be that poor lad, for he supposed he had perished in the hidden garden.

At last the magician became curious to see the palace that everyone was talking about, and he hired a horse and rode out to where it stood. As soon as he saw it he knew at once that it had been built by the genie of the lamp. He hastened home and got out his magic books, and from them learned that Aladdin was still alive, and that it was he who owned the palace and had become the Sultan’s son-in-law.

When the magician learned this he was filled with rage and at once began to plot and plan as to how he could get the lamp for himself, and destroy Aladdin.

In order to carry out this purpose he bought a number of fine new lamps and disguised himself in poor, mean clothing. He waited until one time when Aladdin had gone hunting with the Sultan, and then he started out through the city with his tray of lamps, calling, “New lamps for old! New lamps for old!”

Many people heard his cry and came hurrying out of their houses with old broken lamps, and offered them to the magician to exchange. He took them willingly, and for all of these old lamps he gave in return fine new ones. The people thought he must be crazy. A great crowd followed him, shouting and laughing.

At last the magician arrived in front of Aladdin’s castle. The Princess was sitting in an upper room with her attendants and yawning and feeling quite dull, because Aladdin was away. When she heard the noise and hubbub in the street she became curious. She sent one of her women to find out what the noise was about. She hoped it might be something amusing.

Presently the woman came back laughing. “Fancy!” cried she. “It is an old man with a tray of the most beautiful new lamps, and he is trading them for old ones.”

The Princess was much amused at this idea. “Where is that old blackened lamp that I have seen your master have?” asked she. “Look about and see if you can find it?”

Her woman began to search the palace, and at last they found the magic lamp hidden away in a corner of the treasure-room. They brought it to the Princess, and she at once caused the magician to be brought before her. “Here, old man,” said she, laughing. “Here is an old lamp. Will you give me a new one for it?”

When the magician saw the lamp he could hardly hide his joy. “Gladly, madam,” he answered. “Choose whichever of the lamps you will, and it shall be yours.”

The Princess chose one that pleased her well, and the magician took the old lamp and hurried away with it.

No sooner had he reached home than he shut himself up alone in his room and rubbed the lamp. At once the genie appeared.

“What do you wish?” cried he. “I and the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to serve you.”

“I wish,” cried the magician in a terrible voice, “that the palace of Aladdin and all that are in it shall be carried away to Africa.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie, and immediately disappeared.

That evening the Sultan and Aladdin came home from their hunt. They rode along together, talking pleasantly, until they came within sight of the Sultan’s palace. Suddenly the Sultan drew rein and stared with blank surprise. The castle that Aladdin had built in a single night was gone. Not a sign of it was left.

“Your palace!” cried the Sultan. “Where is your palace?”

Aladdin, too, stared thunderstruck. “I—I do not know!” he faltered.

“You do not know?” cried the Sultan. “And my daughter! Where is she?”

“I do not know,” answered Aladdin again.

The Sultan was filled with rage. “You do not know!” he thundered. “Miserable wretch! was your castle only the work of enchantment? Have you carried off my daughter by your magic? Now unless you bring her back at once you shall surely die.”

Aladdin was in despair. He begged the Sultan to allow him forty days in which to search for the Princess, and to this the Sultan at last consented.

Aladdin at once set out on the search, but he did not know in which direction to go. He wandered about from one place to another, without learning anything about the fate of the Princess or his palace.

At last one day he found himself in a rocky spot beside the sea. In descending the rocks he slipped and caught his hand on a sharp point, and in so doing he rubbed the magician’s ring which he still wore, but which he had forgotten.

At once the genie of the ring appeared before him. “Master,” said he, “what wouldst thou have? I and the other slaves of the ring stand ready to serve thee.”

Aladdin was overjoyed to find that the ring still kept its magic powers. “I wish,” said he, “that you would bring back my palace and the Princess, or else take me where they are.”

“I cannot bring them back,” answered the slave of the ring, “for they have been carried away by the genie of the lamp, who is mightier than I, but I can take you where they are.”

The slave of the ring then caught up Aladdin, and in less time than it takes to tell he had carried him to Africa and had set him down in the apartment in the palace where the Princess was.

When the Princess saw Aladdin thus suddenly appear before her she gave a cry of joy and threw herself into his arms.

“The lamp!” cried Aladdin. “Where is the lamp?” for he wished to protect himself against the power of the magician.

“Alas,” cried the Princess, “I do not know where it is. Already I feared that all our misfortunes had come from my trading off that lamp to a beggar.” She then told Aladdin the whole story of how one had come offering new lamps for old, and of how her women had hunted up the old blackened lamp, and she had given it away for a new one.

Aladdin at once guessed that the beggar must have been the magician in disguise. “We will never be safe,” said he, “until we have that lamp in our possession again. Does the magician ever come here?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Princess; “he comes here every day and wearies me with his pretty speeches. He wishes me to marry him, but that I will never do.”

“Now, listen,” said Aladdin. “The next time the magician comes greet him pleasantly. Talk to him for awhile, and then offer him a glass of sherbet. In this sherbet you must first put a powder that I will give you. It is a sleeping-powder. After the magician drinks it he will fall into a deep sleep. You must then at once call me. Together we will search his clothing, for I feel sure he is afraid to leave the lamp anywhere, and carries it always about him. If we can once get hold of the lamp all of our troubles are at an end.”

The Princess promised to do exactly as Aladdin bade her, and then he gave her the powder, and hid himself in a room near by.

Not long after this the magician came, as usual, to sit and talk with the Princess. She met him with smiling looks, and was so pleasant and friendly that the magician was delighted. He hoped the Princess was beginning to love him and that before long she would consent to be his wife.

Presently the Princess took up a glass of sherbet in which she had already dissolved the powder. “I thought you might be thirsty,” said she, “and I prepared this sherbet for you; will you not drink it?”

The magician thanked her, and taking the goblet he drank the sherbet at one draught. Almost at once his head dropped back on the cushions and he sank in a deep sleep.

The Princess did not delay a moment in calling Aladdin. He came in haste, and together they searched the garments of the magician. It did not take them long to find the lamp, which was hidden in his vest.

Aladdin rubbed it, and the genie of the lamp appeared before him.

“What dost thou wish?” he cried. “I and all the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to obey thee.”

“First,” said Aladdin, “I wish this magician carried away to the uttermost parts of the earth, and I wish him never to be allowed to come within a hundred miles of the lamp again. Secondly, I wish my palace to be returned to the place from which it was taken.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.

He disappeared with the magician, and as the magician never was seen again he probably never escaped from the ends of the earth.

As for the palace it and all that was in it were returned to the place where it first stood, and the Sultan was so delighted to see his daughter again that he gladly forgave Aladdin. The tailor’s son was raised to the greatest honors in the kingdom, and upon the Sultan’s death he became Sultan, and lived happy forever after with his beautiful wife, Buddir al Baddoor.

THE COBBLER AND THE FAIRIES

There was once a cobbler who worked hard at his trade, and yet never seemed to get on in the world.

One evening he took his last piece of leather and cut out a pair of shoes and laid the pieces neatly on his bench, expecting to finish them in the morning.

“There,” said he to his wife; “that is my last piece of leather, and I will have no money to buy more until those shoes are made and sold.”

The next morning he went to his shop early to begin work. What was his surprise to find that in the night the pieces had been made up into a fine pair of shoes. He took them up and examined them, and there was not a fault to be found with them. It was indeed much better work than the cobbler could have done. Not even the king’s shoemaker could have done better.

The cobbler set the shoes out where they could be seen, and he soon had a customer for them. This customer was a very rich man. “This is a very fine pair of shoes,” said the rich man after he had examined them. “I will take them, and you may make me two more pairs.” He then paid the cobbler well, and went away, carrying the shoes with him.

The cobbler was ready to dance with joy. He hurried out and bought more leather, and by evening he had cut out two more pairs of shoes. He left the pieces lying on the bench as before.

When he came to the shop the next morning, he found both pairs finished and standing side by side on the bench, and they were just as well made as the other pair had been. The rich man was delighted with them, and he brought a friend to the shop with him, who also ordered two pairs of shoes.

So it went on. Soon the cobbler had all the customers he could attend to, and they paid high prices for his shoes, for they were better than could be bought anywhere else.

But the cobbler puzzled and puzzled about who was helping him. No matter how late he sat up, nor how early he rose in the morning, he never saw anyone, and he never heard a sound.

At last he determined he would watch all night and find out who was doing the work. So when his wife went off to bed he hid himself behind some clothes that were hanging in the corner, and stayed there as still as a mouse. No one would have known there was anybody in the room. The moon shone in at the window and all the house was still.

Suddenly he saw two little brown fairy-men there in the room, but where they came from he could not tell. It was cold winter weather, but neither of them had on coats or shoes or trousers. They picked up the pieces of leather and looked at them, and then they sat down cross-legged and began to work. They fitted and sewed and hammered, so fast that in a short time all the shoes were done. The two little men set them in a row on the bench, and nodded to each other as though they were well pleased, and then they went as they came, without a sound, and the cobbler could not tell what had become of them.

The next day the cobbler told his wife all that he had seen the night before. The two talked it over for a long time.

“We ought to do something to show our gratitude to the little men,” said his wife. “How would it be if I made a little shirt and a suit for each of them, and you can make them each a pair of shoes.”

To this the cobbler agreed. He went out and bought some fine cloth and cambric, and buttons and also some soft thin leather.

Then his wife set to work and made two little shirts and two little suits all complete, even to the pockets and buttonholes, and the cobbler made two tiny pairs of shoes. When all was finished, they laid the clothes out on the bench, and that night they left a light burning and hid themselves in the corner behind the clothes, to see what would happen. The clock ticked on, and suddenly they saw the two little brown men there in the room, moving quietly about, though how they had come there neither the cobbler nor his wife knew.

The little men went to the bench where the leather was generally laid out, and there, instead of leather pieces were the two little suits of clothes and the two little pairs of shoes. The brownies took up the clothes piece by piece and examined them; they held them up and turned them this way and that. Last of all they put the clothes on, and they fitted exactly. Then they began to dance with glee, and to sing:

“How fine we be, how fine we be!
Now we never will work again!”

So singing they danced about over tables and chairs and benches and so on out the door into the night, and they never were seen again.

But the cobbler prospered, and in time became a very rich man.

CINDERELLA

There was once a girl named Ella who was so gentle and beautiful that everyone who knew her loved her, except those who should have loved her best, and those were her stepmother and her stepsisters.

Her own mother had died while she was quite young, and then her father had married again. This new wife had two daughters of her own, and she wished them to have everything and Ella to have nothing. The stepmother dressed her own children in fine clothes, and they sat about and did nothing all day, but Cinderella worked in the kitchen and had nothing but rags to wear, and because she often sat close to the ashes to warm herself her sisters called her Cinderella.

Now the King and Queen of that country had only one son, and they were very anxious for him to marry, but he had never seen anyone whom he wished to have for a bride. At last they determined to give a great ball, and to ask to it all the fairest ladies in the land. They hoped that among them all the Prince might see someone whom he would choose. All the grand people of the city were invited, and Cinderella’s stepmother and her stepsisters were asked with all the rest.

The stepsisters were very much excited over it. They were both so handsome that they hoped one of them might be chosen by the Prince. They had often watched from the windows to see him riding by, and he was so gay and gallant that anyone might have been glad to marry him.

All sorts of fine things were bought for the sisters to wear, satins and velvets and laces and jewels, feathers for their hair, and glittering fans for them to carry, and the stepmother’s dress was no less fine than theirs.

Cinderella sighed and sighed. “I wish I might go to the ball, too, and see that handsome Prince and all the lovely ladies,” she said.

“You!” cried the sisters, laughing. “A pretty sight you would be at the ball; you with your rags and your sooty hands.”

“Go scour your pots and pans,” cried the stepmother. “That is all you are fit for, you cinder-wench.”

So Cinderella went back to her work, but as she scrubbed and rubbed the tears ran down her cheeks so fast she could hardly see.

The night of the ball the sisters dressed themselves in all their finery and came into the kitchen to show themselves to Cinderella; they hoped to make her envious. They swept up and down the room and spread their gowns and smiled and ogled while Cinderella admired them. After they tired of her admiration they and the stepmother stepped into a fine coach and rolled gayly away to the ball.

But Cinderella sat in a corner by the fire and wept and wept.

Suddenly, as she wept, a little old woman in a high-pointed hat and buckled shoes appeared in the kitchen, and where she came from no one could have told. Her eyes shone and twinkled like two stars, and she carried a wand in her hand.

“Why are you so sad, my child,” she asked; “and why do you weep so bitterly?”

Cinderella looked at her with wonder. “I am weeping,” she said, “because my sisters have gone to the ball without me, and because I wished to go too.”

“Then dry your tears,” said the little old woman, “I am your fairy godmother, and if you are a good girl and do exactly as I say, there is nothing you can wish for that you shall not have. Run to the garden and fetch me a pumpkin; and let me see the mousetrap; if there are six fine fat mice in it they will be of use.”

Cinderella got out the mousetrap as she was told, and there were exactly six mice in it. She also hurried out to the garden and fetched the biggest, roundest pumpkin she could find.

“That is well,” said the godmother. “And now the rattrap.”

Cinderella brought the trap and there was a rat in it.

“And now,” said the godmother, “we are ready to begin.”

She touched the pumpkin with her wand, and at once it turned into a magnificent golden coach, lined throughout with pale yellow satin; she touched the mice and they became six handsome sleek gray horses to draw the coach. She touched the rat with her wand and he was turned into a coachman in a livery of scarlet and gold lace. He mounted to the box of the coach, and gathered up the reins, and sat there, whip in hand, waiting.

“Footmen! Footmen!” cried the godmother impatiently. “Where shall we get them!” Her sharp eyes glanced this way and that, and presently, in the crack of the wall, she espied two lizards. “The very thing,” said she. A touch of her wand and they were changed to footmen with powdered wigs and cocked hats. They sprang up and took their places behind the coach. “And now,” said the fairy, “all is ready, and no one has a finer coach in which to go to the ball. Do you not agree with me?”

“But, Godmother, my rags! I could not go to the ball in rags, no matter how fine my coach,” cried Cinderella.

“Wait a bit! I have not done yet.” The godmother touched Cinderella’s rags with her wand, and at once they were changed to a gown of white satin embroidered with pearls. There were diamonds in her hair, and her clumsy shoes were changed to glass slippers that exactly fitted her little feet.

Cinderella wondered, and her heart was filled with joy. The satin gleamed about her like moonshine, and the diamonds shone as bright as the tears she had shed.

“Now, my child, you can go to the ball,” said the godmother. “But remember this: My fairy charm can only last till twelve o’clock. At the last stroke of twelve these fine clothes will change into rags; the coach will again become a pumpkin, the horses mice, and the coachman and footman a rat and lizards as they were before; so by twelve you must be home again.”

Cinderella promised to obey, and then she stepped into the coach and rolled away to the ball.

When she reached the palace the music was sounding and the Prince was about to choose a partner for the dance. All the ladies waited anxiously, each hoping she would be the one to be chosen. Many beauties were there, and it was hard to say which was the loveliest. But when Cinderella entered the room no one had eyes for anyone but her. She was far fairer than the fairest, as the crescent moon is lovelier than the stars.

The Prince came to her and took her by the hand. “You shall be my partner in the dance,” said he, “for never have I seen anyone as fair as you.”

From then on the Prince would dance with no one but Cinderella, and none could wonder nor blame him, for she was so beautiful that the heart melted at sight of her.

The Prince begged her to tell him her name and whence she came, but she would not, and when the castle clock struck the quarter before twelve she managed to slip away from him, and run out to her coach. She sprang into it, the rat coachman cracked his whip, and away they went, and the Prince did not know what had become of her.

When the stepsisters came home, Cinderella was again sitting in the corner beside the fire, dressed in her rags.

“Was it a beautiful ball?” she asked.

“Yes, it was a fine ball indeed,” said the sisters, and they began to tell her about it.

“And whom did the Prince dance with?” asked Cinderella.

“Oh, he danced with a strange princess who came in just after the ball began. The Prince had bowed to us and smiled, and he might have chosen one of us as his partner, but after she came he had eyes for no one else. She must be a very great princess indeed, but no one could find out who she was, not even the Prince himself, though he begged and entreated her to tell him. She slipped away before the ball was over, and no one knew where she went. The Prince was like one distracted. To-morrow night another ball is to be given, for the Prince hopes the Princess may come again and that he may find out who she is.”

Cinderella sighed. “Oh, my dear sisters, let me go with you to-morrow, I beg of you. One of your old dresses would do for me to wear.”

But the sisters laughed and jeered. “You the cinder-wench!” they cried. “No, no, the kitchen is the place for you. We would die of shame if any of those fine folk saw you.” Then they bade her unfasten their dresses and help them to bed. They must get to sleep and be fresh and handsome for the second ball.

The next night the stepsisters dressed again, and drove away to the ball, and more than ever did Cinderella long to go with them.

Scarcely had they gone, however, when the fairy godmother appeared in the kitchen.

“Well,” said she, “I suppose you would like to go to this ball, too.”

“Oh, dear Godmother, if I only could!” cried Cinderella.

The godmother bade Cinderella bring her the pumpkin, the mice, the rat, and the lizards. Again she changed them into the grand coach, the horses, driver, and footmen, all complete. She then touched Cinderella’s rags with her wand, and they were changed into a dress even more beautiful than the one she had worn the night before. She stepped into the coach and rolled away to the ball.

The Prince had been watching for her impatiently, and the moment she entered the room he hurried forward and took her by the hand.

“Why did you leave me so suddenly?” he asked her. “I sought you everywhere and could not sleep all night for thinking of you.”

He then again led her to a place in the dance, and he would dance with no one else.

As it drew on toward midnight Cinderella became very uneasy. She tried to slip away without being seen, but the Prince followed her everywhere she went. At last she made some excuse and sent him away for a moment. Then she drew her cloak around her and sped down the stairs and out to where her coach was waiting. She sprang into it and rolled away. But half-way home she heard the castle clock begin to strike the hour. As the last stroke sounded the coach melted away from around her, and a yellow pumpkin lay at her feet; the horses changed into mice and ran away, squealing; the coachman became a rat, and the lizards made haste to hide in the crack of a wall. Cinderella, in her rags, had barely time to run back to the kitchen and take her place beside the fire before the door opened and her stepsisters swept into the room.

“This ball was even more beautiful than the other,” they cried. “And the Princess was there again, and so lovely that it dazzled the eyes to look at her. The Prince thought of no one but her.”

“Ah, if I could only see her!” sighed Cinderella.

“You the cinder-wench!” scoffed the sisters. “Why she would not even allow you in her kitchen. But come! Unfasten our dresses. To-morrow there is to be another ball, and we must get to bed and rest, so as to look our best.”

So Cinderella helped her sisters to undress, and all the while she did so they could talk of nothing but the unknown princess, of how beautiful she was, and of how much the Prince had admired her.

The next night Cinderella helped to dress her sisters and make them ready for the ball. They rolled away in their coach, and then Cinderella waited impatiently for her godmother to come. It was not long before the old fairy appeared.

“Well,” said she, “and do you wish to go to this ball also?”

“Oh, dear Godmother!” cried Cinderella. “I wish to go as I never wished for anything in all my life before.”

“Very well, then you shall go,” said the godmother. “But do not forget, you must leave before the clock strikes twelve, or your fine clothes will turn to rags before them all, and your sisters will know you as the cinder-wench.”

Cinderella promised, and the godmother then touched her with her wand, and the rags were turned into a dress even more magnificent than before. If before Cinderella had appeared like the crescent moon, now she shone like the moon in its full glory. When she entered the ballroom she appeared so beautiful that it dazzled the eyes to look at her. The Prince followed her everywhere and begged and entreated her to tell him who she was, but she would not. Again and again they danced together, and Cinderella was so happy she quite forgot to notice how fast the time was going.

Suddenly the castle clock began to strike. Cinderella gave a cry of terror. She snatched her hand from the Prince and fled away so fast that for a moment he lost sight of her. Such was her haste that as she ran down the stairs she lost one of her little glass shoes, but she dared not wait to pick it up.

Just as she reached the door the last stroke of twelve sounded. Immediately her beautiful clothes fell into rags; her jewels melted away, and the guard who was on watch saw no one but a little kitchen-wench who ran past him, weeping bitterly, and wringing her hands.

Cinderella ran all the way home, and she scarcely had time to take her place beside the fire before her sisters swept into the room.

“What! crying?” they said. “Why are you not content? You have a warm corner to sit in, and no need to bother your head about anything. But you should have seen the ball to-night. It was more wonderful than either of the others; and as for the Princess, she was so beautiful that there never was anything like it. The Prince never looked at anyone else. But she went away as before, and no one knows where she went. However, the Prince picked up one of her slippers on the stairs, and he may find her by that.”

The next day the Prince sent out a proclamation far and wide that he had found a glass slipper and whoever could wear that slipper should be his bride. He hoped in this way to find the lovely Princess who had three times escaped him.

The slipper was sent around from one house to another, and every lady was eager to try it on. All hoped to be able to wear it, but it fitted none of them. Some feet were too long, and some too broad, some too fat, and some too thin.

At last the messenger came to the house where Cinderella and her stepsisters lived. The stepsisters could hardly wait to try the slipper on. Each was sure she could wear it, and they began to quarrel as to which should try it first. At last it was given to the eldest sister. She sat down and tried to put her foot into it, but she could not. The toes went in easily enough, but her heel would not go down into it. Then the second sister tried it, but that was even worse, for she could not even get her toes into it. The stepmother stood by, begging and urging them to try again.

But the messenger shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “Neither of those two is the right one. But is there no one else in the house who could try it on?”

No, there was no one except the little kitchen-maid, and it was not worth while for her to try it. If the sisters could not wear it she certainly could not. Nevertheless, the messenger said he must see her. His orders were that everyone in the city should try it on.

Very reluctantly the stepmother sent for Cinderella. She came at once, and so modest and lovely were her looks that the messenger wondered that she should be a kitchen-wench.

She sat down and took the slipper from the messenger, and put it on, and it fitted exactly. Then she drew the other slipper out from beneath her rags and put it upon her other foot, and at once the messenger knew she must be the one the Prince had been seeking.

He kneeled before her and said, “You are my mistress, for you are the one the Prince has chosen for his bride.”

The stepmother and the stepsisters were ready to burst with rage and envy. They could not believe their eyes, and would have sent Cinderella back to the kitchen with harsh words and blows; but this the messenger would not allow.

Cinderella was taken away to the palace and dressed as a princess should be, and when the Prince saw her again in all her beauty he was filled with love and joy.

Soon after they were married, and though the stepsisters were invited to the wedding they were ashamed to come because their faces were so swollen with weeping. As for the stepmother she was quite ill with rage and spite, but the Prince and Cinderella lived happy together forever after.

JACK IN LUCK

Jack had served his master well for seven long years without having been paid a penny. At the end of that time Jack went to him and said, “Master, I have been with you seven years, and now it is time for me to go home to see my mother. But oughtn’t I to be paid something first?”

“Yes,” said his master, “you have served me well, and you shall be well paid in return.”

He then brought out a lump of gold as big as Jack’s head and gave it to the lad.

Jack thanked him and wrapped the gold up in a handkerchief and tied the corners together, so he could carry it. Then he said good-by to his master, and off he set, whistling merrily. But the way was long and the sun was hot. The further Jack went the wearier he grew, and the gold weighed as heavy as lead. He shifted it from hand to hand, but every moment it became a heavier burden.

After awhile Jack met a man riding merrily along on a fine horse.

“That is a fine nag you are riding,” said Jack.

“Yes, it is,” answered the man.

“Well, you are a lucky fellow,” said Jack. “There you ride along as light as a bird, and I have to trudge in the dust and carry a lump of gold that weighs like lead.”

“Is that gold you have tied up there?” asked the man.

“Yes, it is.”

“I would like to see a lump of gold as big as that.”

Jack untied the handkerchief and showed the gold to the man. When the man saw it his eyes glittered and his mouth worked.

“Listen,” said he to Jack, “I am a good-natured sort of a fellow. I am almost home and you have still a long way to go. Give me the gold and you shall have my horse in exchange, and then you can ride along as proud as a king, and I will do the trudging.”

That seemed to Jack a fine bargain. He thanked the man and gave him the gold, and then he mounted the horse. The man put a switch in his hand and said, “If he does not go along fast enough just touch him with this and he will go faster.” Then he tied up the gold in a great hurry, and made off with it.

As for Jack he rode along holding his head high and glancing about him. “How proud mother will be to see me come riding up to the door like a nobleman,” thought he. “How much better to ride with my head in the air than to trudge along in the dust.”

After awhile Jack thought he would like to go faster, and he gave the horse a cut with the switch. But the nag was a lively one. When it felt the switch it kicked up its heels, and away it went, jolting and bumping. Jack held on as long as he could, and then he fell off into a ditch full of stinging nettles. Luckily a man passing by stopped the horse and brought it back to him. The man was leading a cow by a rope.

“That was a nasty fall you had,” said he.

“Yes,” answered Jack. “Now I see that a horse is a tricky animal. A man gave him to me for a lump of gold I was carrying, and he seemed quiet enough then.”

“A lump of gold?” asked the man.

“Yes, a lump of gold. How lucky you are to have a nice quiet animal like the cow to give you good milk and butter and cheese, instead of a horse that runs away and throws you off.”

“Yes, I am lucky,” said the man. Then he thought a bit. “Listen,” said he. “I have had so much butter and cheese and cream that I am tired of them. If you like you shall have my cow and I will take your horse, and you will have the best of the bargain.”

“That I will,” cried Jack joyfully, “and I thank you kindly for speaking of it.” He then gave the horse to the man, and the man gave him the cow. Then the man sprang upon the horse and away he rode in haste without once turning to look behind him.

Jack led the cow along by the rope, and his heart was light if his heels were not. “Now I can live like a king,” said he. “When I am thirsty all I have to do is to milk the cow and have a drink of fine fresh milk; and when I have a piece of bread—it is easy enough to get a piece of bread—I can always have some butter with it, or a tasty bit of cheese.”

The sun was high in the sky by now, and it shone so hot that Jack’s mouth grew as dry as a nutmeg grater. “Now is the time for a glass of milk,” said he. He tied the cow to a post, and then he sat down and tried to milk her; but he had never learned how to milk, and not a drop could he get. Moreover he was so awkward about it that at last the cow gave him a kick that sent him head over heels across the road. Jack got up and rubbed his head. “That is a very dangerous animal,” said he, “or else she does not like me.”

Just then a butcher came by, wheeling a fine little pig in a barrow, and he stopped to speak with Jack. “What ails you,” said he, “that you look so sad and down in the mouth?”

“Oh,” said Jack, “my cow has kicked me and will not give me a drop of milk,” and he told the butcher the whole story, how he had exchanged the gold for a horse, and the horse for a cow.

“You made a bad bargain,” said the butcher. “That cow is old and will never give milk. There is nothing to do with her but to knock her on the head and use her for beef.”

“How could I do that?” asked Jack. “And besides I do not like beef. If she were only a fine little pig, now! There is nothing I love better than a tender juicy bit of pork.”

“Well, there now!” said the butcher. “I am too kind-hearted for my own good, but if you like I will take the cow and you shall have my pig in exchange.”

Jack was delighted. He thanked the butcher and took the pig in exchange for his cow, and off he set, wheeling the pig before him, and he was as happy as a lark.

After awhile he met a young man who carried a fine fat white goose under his arm. Jack had known the youth before, and they stopped to talk. Jack told him all about his adventures, and what fine bargains he had made.

“Yes, that is well,” said the youth. Then he showed Jack his goose, and made him weigh it by the wings and feel how fat it was, and how soft were its feathers.

“It is a fine fowl,” said Jack. “But after all it is not as fine a creature as my fat pig, and it will not taste as good when it is eaten, either.”

The youth looked the pig all over, and scratched his head. “I do not know about that pig,” said he. “A man just over there beyond the hill had his pig stolen two days ago. I misdoubt me but what this may be the very one. I only hope you may not get taken up and put in prison for having it.”

“In prison,” cried Jack in alarm. “But I cannot go to prison. My mother is looking for me home, and it would break her heart if I did not come.”

“I will tell you,” said the youth; “I know the ways about here better than you do. If you like I will take the pig and give you my goose in exchange. I may suffer for it, but if anyone is taken to prison at least it will not be you.”

Jack thanked him with tears in his eyes. He gave him the pig and took the goose and went on his way rejoicing. “After all,” thought he, “I would rather have a goose than a pig. Not only is it good to eat, but it may lay me a fine big egg, and its feathers will do to make a soft pillow for mother to lay her head on.”

So thinking he trudged along with the goose under his arm, and after awhile he came to a village, and there was a knife-grinder turning his wheel and sharpening knives and scissors for people.

He worked so quickly and sang so merrily as he worked that Jack stopped to watch him.

“That is a fine trade of yours—that of a knife-grinder,” said Jack.

“Yes, it is,” answered the man. “People are glad to see me come, and they save their knives and scissors for me to sharpen. I always can earn a bit of money, and when I am tired of one place I take my wheel and go on to the next. But that is a fine goose you have. Where did you buy it?”

“I did not buy it, I got it in exchange for a pig.”

“And where did you get the pig?”

“Oh, I took it in exchange for a cow.”

“Where did you get the cow?”

“I got it in exchange for a horse.”

“Where did you get the horse?”

“I bought it for a lump of gold as big as my head.”

“Where did you get the gold?”

“My master gave it to me in payment for seven years’ service, but the gold was too heavy, and the horse ran away, and the cow would give no milk, and the pig had been stolen, but this is a very fine goose, so you see I have been lucky in the end.”

“That you have,” said the knife-grinder. “But after all I would rather own this grindstone of mine than the very finest, fattest goose. The goose is eaten and that is the end of it, but this grindstone always earns me a bit of money to jingle in my pocket.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Jack. “I wish I had a grindstone.”

The knife-grinder looked thoughtful. “It might be managed,” said he. “I have another grindstone that is a bit damaged, but works all right. If you like you can have it in exchange for your goose, and once you have a grindstone the rest of the business is easy enough.”

“I am in luck indeed,” said Jack. “I have only to wish for a thing and I get it. Here, take the goose, and give me the grindstone.”

The man gave Jack an old cracked grindstone. Then he picked up a heavy stone that lay by the roadside. “Take this with you, too,” he said. “It will be useful to you if you ever have a crooked nail to straighten. Then you will only have to lay it on the grindstone and beat it with this rock, and you can straighten it out in no time.”

“Yes, that will be a fine thing,” said Jack, and he took the grindstone and the rock and thanked the man and went on his way.

But the road was rough and the sun was hot, and before long Jack was so weary with the weight he carried that he could hardly drag one foot after another, and the sweat poured down from his forehead.

After awhile he came to a place where a well of water bubbled up clear and fresh and cool. Jack put his stones down on the edge of it and stooped over to drink, but as he rose up again he happened to give the stones a push, and plunk! they both fell into the well and sank to the bottom.

“Now thanks be to heaven!” cried Jack. “If I had had to carry those stones much farther my back would surely have broken. Oh, what a lucky fellow I am! Everything I touch turns to luck.”

Then he started off with a light heart and light heels, and it did not take him long to reach his mother’s house.

PUSS IN BOOTS