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 On the other side of the room, Charlotte was engaged in lacing her bodice, and had already broken a dozen laces in the attempt to make her waist smaller than nature ever intended it to be.

“Come here, you lazy little thing,” screamed Euphronia as soon as Cinderella entered the room; “come and hold these pins for me while I dress my hair. A plague on the hairdresser who sent me this cream, for it won’t keep a curl in its place. I’m driven nearly distracted.”

“Would you like me to dress your hair for you?” asked Cinderella. “I’m sure I could do it if you would let me try!”

“No, no,” cried Charlotte. “I want Cinderella to come and pull these laces a little tighter. This bodice will close quite another inch with careful coaxing.”

“Oh, you abominably selfish creature! You know very well that all the tugging in the world will not make you look genteel. It is only wasting time, and my hair must be done or I shall be late for the ball.”

And so they began one of their quarrels, and Cinder­ella had to soothe them by offering to do Euphronia’s hair first and to lace Charlotte afterwards. Beneath her deft fingers the unruly tresses soon fell into shape, and Euphronia, watching the happy result of her work in the mirror, grew quite gracious.

“That’s very becoming,” she said, stretching her lean neck this way and that. “Auburn hair is quite the fashion this year, according to the Court Intelligencer. I’m positive that I shall create a great sensation. Don’t