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 “Yes,” replied Euphronia, “we shall certainly receive an invitation,” and she was right. For one afternoon a courier from the palace came riding to the house and delivered the invitation in a large envelope, sealed with the royal seal.

Now what a scene of excitement there was! The sisters spent half the day talking about what they were going to wear, and the other half grimacing before their looking-glasses. All the dresses were brought out of the wardrobe, and Cinderella was called upstairs to admire them and to give her advice.

“I think I shall wear my red velvet gown with the English point-lace trimmings,” said Euphronia. “That is so dignified and stately, and it suits me admirably.”

“As for me,” said Charlotte, “I shall put on my purple petticoat and my green cloak that is brocaded in gold. Purple, you know, is the royal colour, and it is therefore most appropriate for a royal ball.”

Then they put the dresses on, and stalked about the room in them, posturing before the mirrors and practis­ing graceful bows and curtsies. At all hours of the day errand-boys came from the shops in the town carrying parcels—new shawls and lace kerchiefs and fancy shoes, bottles containing toilet-water and scent, boxes of black patches from the best makers and of the latest shape, fans and gloves and jewelled clasps—one would have thought that there were fifty people in the house who were going to the ball instead of only two. Cinderella was kept busy from morning till night, ironing the sisters’ linen and goffering their ruffles.