Of course there was a great deal of excitement among the regular costumers of the city, and they all resolved to vie with one another in being the most popular, and the best patronized on this gala occasion.  But the placards and the notices had not been out a week before a new Costumer appeared, who cast all the others into the shade directly.  He set up his shop on the corner of one of the principal streets, and hung up his beautiful costumes in the windows.  He was a little fellow, not much larger than a boy of ten.  His cheeks were as red as roses, and he had on a long curling wig as white as snow.  He wore a suit of crimson velvet knee-breeches, and a little swallow-tailed coat with beautiful golden buttons.  Deep lace ruffles fell over his slender white hands, and he wore elegant knee-buckles of glittering stones.  He sat on a high stool behind his counter and served his customers himself; he kept no clerk.

It did not take the children long to discover what beautiful things he had, and how superior he was to the other costumers, and they begun to flock to his shop immediately, from the Mayor’s daughter to the poor rag-picker’s.  The children were to select their own costumes; the Mayor had stipulated that.  It was to be a children’s ball in every sense of the word.

So they decided to be fairies, and shepherdesses, and princesses, according to their own fancies; and this new costumer had charming costumes to suit them.

It was noticeable, that, for the most part, the children of the rich, who had always had everything they desired, would choose the parts of goose-girls and peasants and such like; and the poor children jumped eagerly at the chance of being princesses or fairies for a few hours in their miserable lives.

When Christmas Eve came, and the children flocked into the Mayor’s mansion, whether it was owing to the Costumer’s art, or their own adaptation to the characters they had chosen, it was wonderful how lifelike their representations were.  Those little fairies in their short skirts of silken gauze, in which golden sparkles appeared as they moved, with their little funny gossamer wings, like butterflies, looked like real fairies.  It did not seem possible, when they floated around to the music, half supported on the tips of their dainty toes, half by their filmy, purple wings, their delicate bodies swaying in time, that they could be anything but fairies.  It seemed absurd to imagine that they were Johnny Mullens, the washwoman’s son, and Polly Flinders, the charwoman’s little girl, and so on.

The Mayor’s daughter, who had chosen the character of a goose-girl, looked so like a true one that one could hardly dream she ever was anything else.  She was, ordinarily, a slender, dainty little lady, rather tall for her age.  She now looked very short and stubbed and brown, just as if she had been accustomed to tend geese in all sorts of weather.  It was so with all the others—­the Red Riding-hoods,