Part 5 (1/2)

The Prince his admiration showed In every word and glance; He led her out to supper, And he chose her for the dance; But she kept in mind the warning That her G.o.dmother had given, And left the ball, with all its charm.

At just half after eleven.

Next night there was another ball; She helped her sisters twain To pinch their waists, and curl their hair, And paint their cheeks again.

Then came the fairy G.o.dmother, And, with her wand, once more Arrayed her out in greater splendor Even than before.

The coach and six, with gay outriders, Bore her through the street, And a crowd was gathered round to look, The lady was so sweet,-- So light of heart, and face, and mien, As happy children are; And when her foot stepped down, Her slipper twinkled like a star.

Again the Prince chose only her For waltz or _tete-a-tete_; So swift the minutes flew she did not Dream it could be late, But all at once, remembering What her G.o.dmother had said, And hearing twelve begin to strike Upon the clock, she fled.

Swift as a swallow on the wing She darted, but, alas!

Dropped from one flying foot the tiny Slipper made of gla.s.s; But she got away, and well it was She did, for in a trice Her coach changed to a pumpkin, And her horses became mice;

And back into the cinder dress Was changed the gold brocade!

The prince secured the slipper, And this proclamation made: That the country should be searched, And any lady, far or wide, Who could get the slipper on her foot, Should straightway be his bride.

So every lady tried it, With her ”Mys!” and ”Ahs!” and ”Ohs!”

And Cinderella's sisters pared Their heels, and pared their toes,-- But all in vain! n.o.body's foot Was small enough for it, Till Cinderella tried it, And it was a perfect fit.

Then the royal heralds hardly Knew what it was best to do, When from out her tattered pocket Forth she drew the other shoe, While the eyelids on the larkspur eyes Dropped down a snowy vail, And the sisters turned from pale to red, And then from red to pale,

And in hateful anger cried, and stormed, And scolded, and all that, And a courtier, without thinking, t.i.ttered out behind his hat.

For here was all the evidence The Prince had asked, complete, Two little slippers made of gla.s.s, Fitting two little feet.

So the Prince, with all his retinue, Came there to claim his wife; And he promised he would love her With devotion all his life.

At the marriage there was splendid Music, dancing, wedding cake; And he kept the slipper as a treasure Ever, for her sake.

d.i.c.k WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.

Versified by Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

d.i.c.k, as a little lad, was told That the London streets were paved with gold.

He never, in all his life, had seen A place more grand than the village green; So his thoughts by day, and his dreams by night, Pictured this city of delight, Till whatever he did, wherever he went, His mind was filled with discontent.

There was bitter taste to the peasant bread, And a restless hardness to his bed; So, after a while, one summer day, Little d.i.c.k Whittington ran away.

Yes--ran away to London city!

Poor little lad! he needs your pity; For there, instead of a golden street, The hot, sharp stones abused his feet.

So tired he was he was fit to fall,-- Yet n.o.body cared for him at all; He wandered here, and he wandered there, With a heavy heart, for many a square.

And at last, when he could walk no more, He sank down faint at a merchant's door.

And the cook--for once compa.s.sionate-- Took him in at the area-gate.

And she gave him bits of broken meat, And scattered crusts, and crumbs, to eat; And kept him there for her commands To pare potatoes, and scour pans, To wash the kettles and sweep the room; And she beat him dreadfully with the broom; And he staid as long as he could stay, And again, in despair, he ran away.

Out towards the famous Highgate Hill He fled, in the morning gray and chill; And there he sat on a wayside stone, And the bells of Bow, with merry tone, Jangled a musical chime together, Over the miles of blooming heather: ”Turn, turn, turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London town!”

And he turned--so cheered he was at that-- And, meeting a boy who carried a cat, He bought the cat with his only penny,-- For where he had slept the mice were many.