The long-wished-for evening came at last, and off they set. Cinderella’s eyes followed them as long as she could, and then she was fain to weep. Her godmother now appeared, and seeing her in tears inquired what was the matter. “I wish—-I wish,” began the poor girl, but tears choked her utterance. “You wish that you could go to the ball,” interrupted her godmother, who was a fairy. “Indeed I do!” said Cinderella, with a sigh. “Well, then, if you will be a good girl, you shall go,” said her godmother. “Now fetch me a pumpkin from the garden,” added she.
Cinderella flew to gather the finest pumpkin she could find, though she could not understand how it was to help her to go to the ball. But, her godmother having scooped it quite hollow, touched it with her wand, when it was immediately changed into a gilt coach. She then went to the mousetrap, where she found six live mice, and bidding Cinderella let them out one by one, she changed each mouse into a fine dapple-grey horse by a stroke of her wand. She next considered what she should do for a coachman, when Cinderella proposed to look for a rat in the rat-trap. “That’s a good thought,” quoth her godmother, “so go and see.”
Sure enough, Cinderella returned with the rat-trap, in which were three large rats. The fairy chose one who had a tremendous pair of whiskers, and forthwith changed him into a coachman with the finest moustachios ever seen. She then said: “Now go into the garden, and bring me six lizards, which you will find behind the watering-pot.” These were no sooner brought, than they were turned into six footmen, with laced liveries, who got up behind the coach just as naturally as if they had done nothing else all their lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella: “Now here are all the means for going to the ball; are you not pleased?” “But must I go in these dirty clothes?” said Cinderella, timidly. Her godmother merely touched her with her wand, and her shabby clothes were changed to a dress of gold and silver tissue, all ornamented with precious stones.