"Quite out of date," interrupted CINDERELLA. "I presume you intend to
turn the pumpkin into a great coach, and so forth. Eh?"

"Well," admitted the Fairy, taken aback, "ye-es."

"Quite so. Believe me, the idea is distinctly old-fashioned. Pray
understand, I don't say you can't do it. Nowadays, with EDISON and
KOCH, it would be dangerous to suggest that anything was impossible.
No, I merely object to travel in a conveyance that will naturally be
redolent of the odours of the kitchen garden, and to be driven by a
coachman derived from a rodent."

"But this objection is contrary to precedent," urged the Fairy. "You
ought to express unbounded delight, and then depart in your carriage
with the greatest _éclat_ possible."

"You are most kind, but, if I am to do anything of _that_ sort, I
would prefer leaving the matter in the hands of Mr. Sheriff AUGUSTUS
HARRIS who thoroughly understands the entire business."

"It seems to me," said the Fairy, "you are very ungrateful. But surely
you want a magnificent costume?"

"Thanks, no; I get everything from Paris."

"And you think of the feelings of your _modiste_, and ignore those
of your poor old (but well-preserved) Godmother!" And the Fairy was
nearly moved to tears.

"Oh, I did not mean to pain you!" exclaimed CINDERELLA. "Stay, my dear