clock struck twelve, he was so unhappy that no one could comfort him.

Now the third and last night of the party had come. The Prince could
think of nothing but the pretty maid. "I must know who she is and
where she comes from, or I shall never be happy again. I will keep
fast hold of her hand to-night. She shall not slip away this time as
she has always done before," said the Prince.

Never had Cinderella been as happy as on that evening, never had she
danced as well, never had the lights shone brighter or the music
sounded sweeter, never had the Prince been half as gay. Cinderella
danced on and on. She forgot the fairy, she forgot her promise, she
forgot the hour. The great clock in the hall ticked off the minutes.
It was nearly twelve, still Cinderella danced on without a thought.
The six gray horses pawed restlessly at the door. Louder and louder
grew the music, faster and faster flew the dancers, and the gayest of
them all was Cinderella as she whirled by on the arm of the happy
Prince. But, hark! What's that? Above the noise of the dancing,
above the music and laughter, a sound is heard. It is the great clock
striking the hour of midnight.

Cinderella heard at last, at last she remembered. She snatched her
hand from the hand of the Prince. She rushed to the doorway, but she
tripped upon the mat and one of her little glass slippers fell off.
The Prince ran after her, but he stopped to pick up her slipper, and
when he reached the gateway the beautiful lady was nowhere to be seen.
All was dark and still, only a ragged beggar-maid, sobbing as if her
heart would break, went quickly away into the night. Poor, poor
Cinderella! Her wonderful carriage had vanished, her beautiful dress
was gone, nothing was left her but one tiny glass slipper. She stooped