Cinderella brought her hands together with rapture. "Was it truly?"
she asked.

"Quite like it," said the first sister. "And her hair and cheeks--they
were--they were like yours, poor Cinderella, only of course much more
beautiful!"

Cinderella's hands were still clasped. "Oh, much more beautiful, I
know!" she murmured softly.

Then a silence fell upon all the sisters. Cinderella clasped her hands
about her knees and gazed dreamily into the fireplace. Her sisters
stole pitying glances at her. They noted her wretched dress, and
gentle regret shone in their eyes.

At length the first sister said generously, "You know, Cinderella, we
should be very glad to have you go places with us and have a good time,
too, if mother----"

But the second sister interrupted dutifully, "If it were the custom for
the younger sister to be treated like the older sisters."

Cinderella nodded, "I know it is a custom--that's all," she said.
"Maybe my turn will come when you've both got good husbands and fine
establishments of your own."

The two sisters arose. The first began to yawn loudly; but remembering
her manners she patted her lips with her finger tips, changing the yawn
into a smile. She advanced toward the door by which she had entered.
The second sister made as if to follow her, but turned for a final word.