The two sisters were so delighted, that they scarcely ate a morsel for a
couple of days. They spent their whole time before a looking-glass, and
they would be laced so tight, to make their waists as slender as
possible, that more than a dozen stay-laces were broken in the attempt.

The long-wished-for evening came at last, and these proud misses stepped
into the carriage and drove away to the palace. Cinderella looked after
the coach as far as she could see, and then returned to the kitchen in
tears; where, for the first time, she bewailed her hard and cruel
degradation. She continued sobbing in the corner of the chimney, until a
rapping at the kitchen-door roused her, and she got up to see what had
occasioned, it. She found a little old beggar-woman hobbling on
crutches, who besought her to give her some food. "I have only part of
my own supper for you, Goody, which is no better than a dry crust. But
if you like to step in and warm yourself, you can do so, and welcome."
"Thank you, my dear," said the old woman in a feeble, croaking voice.
She then hobbled in and took her seat by the fire.

"Hey! dearee me! what are all these tears, my child?" said the old
woman. And then Cinderella told the old woman all her griefs; how her
sisters had gone to the ball, and how she wished to go too, but had no
clothes, or means to do so.

"But you _shall_ go, my darling," said the old woman, "or I am not
Queen of the Faëries or your Godmother. Dry up your tears like a good
god-daughter and do as I bid you, and you shall have clothes and horses
finer than any one."

Cinderella had heard her father often talk of her godmother, and tell