“Well, let us play Cinderella.  The dresses of velvet, silk, and lace, the jewels, the slippers—­all are in yonder chest.  Listen, my dear girls.  Upon the first signs of the Revolution my frightened mother left France and crossed into England.  She took with her all her wardrobe, her jewels, the pictures from her bedroom, and part of her plate.  She bought, before going, a quantity of silks and ribbons....  When I reached England my mother was dead, and all that she had possessed was restored to me by the authorities.  My poor mother loved dress, and in that chest is all her apparel.  Part of it I had altered for my own use; but she was much larger than I—­taller than you.  I can neither use them nor consent to sell them.  If each of you will accept a ball toilet, you will make me very happy.”  And she looked at us with her eyes full of supplication, her hands clasped.

We each snatched a hand and kissed it.  Then she opened the chest, and for the first and last time in my life I saw fabrics, ornaments, and coiffures that truly seemed to have been made by the fairies.  After many trials and much debate she laid aside for me a lovely dress of blue brocade glistening with large silver flowers the reflections of which seemed like rays of light.  It was short in front, with a train; was very full on the sides, and was caught up with knots of ribbon.  The long pointed waist was cut square and trimmed with magnificent laces that re-appeared on the half-long sleeves.  The arms, to the elbow, were to be covered with white frosted gloves fastened with twelve silver buttons.  To complete my toilet she gave me a blue silk fan beautifully painted, blue satin slippers with high heels and silver buckles, white silk stockings with blue clocks, a broidered white cambric handkerchief trimmed with Brussels point lace, and, last, a lovely set of silver filigree that she assured us was of slight value, comprising the necklace, the comb, the earrings, bracelets, and a belt whose silver tassels of the same design fell down the front of the dress.

My sister’s toilet was exactly like mine, save that it was rose color.  Alix had us try them on.  While our eyes were ravished, she, with more expert taste, decided to take up a little in one place, lower a ribbon in another, add something here, take away there, and, above all, to iron the whole with care.  We staid all day helping her; and when, about 3 o’clock, all was finished, our fairy godmother said she would now dress our hair, and that we must observe closely.

“For Suzanne will have to coiffe Francoise and Francoise coiffe Suzanne,” she said.  She took from the chest two pasteboard boxes that she said contained the headdresses belonging to our costumes, and, making me sit facing my sister, began to dress her hair.  I was all eyes.  I did not lose a movement of the comb.  She lifted Suzanne’s hair to the middle of the head in two rosettes that she called riquettes and fastened them with