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           AnyonebutCinderillawouldhavedressedtheirheadsawry,butshewasverygood,anddressedthemperfectlywell. Theywerealmosttwodayswithouteating,somuchtheyweretransportedwithjoy; theybrokeaboveadozenoflacesintryingtobelacedupclose,thattheymighthaveafineslendershape,andtheywerecontinuallyattheirlooking-glass. Atlastthehappydaycame; theywenttoCourt,andCinderillafollowedthemwithhereyesaslongasshecould,andwhenshehadlostsightofthemshefella-crying. 

           Hergodmother,whosawherallintears, askedherwhatwasthematter. 

           "IwishIcould——IwishIcould—"shewasnotabletospeaktherest,beinginterruptedbyhertearsandsobbing. 

           Thisgodmotherofhers,whowasaFairy,saidtoher:"Thouwishestthoucouldestgototheball,isitnotso?" 

           "Y—es,"criedCinderilla,withagreatsigh. 

           "Well,"saidhergodmother,"bebutagoodgirl,andIwillcontrivethatthoushaltgo."Thenshetookherintoherchamber,andsaidtoher: 

           "Runintothegarden,andbringmeapumpkin." 

           Cinderillawentimmediatelytogatherthefinestshecouldget,andbroughtittohergodmother, notbeingabletoimaginehowthispumpkincouldmakehergototheball. Hergodmotherscoopedoutalltheinsideofit,leavingnothingbuttherind; whichdone,shestruckitwithherwand,andthepumpkinwasinstantlyturnedintoafinecoach,gildedalloverwithgold.