“The maid was kind to me and gave me a night’s lodging,” she said.  “So now I will stay without wage and do the dirty work for her.”

So Caporushes—­for so they called her since she would give no other name—­stayed on and cleaned the pots and scraped the saucepans.

Now it so happened that her master’s son came of age, and to celebrate the occasion a ball was given to the neighbourhood, for the young man was a grand dancer, and loved nothing so well as a country measure.  It was a very fine party, and after supper was served, the servants were allowed to go and watch the quality from the gallery of the ball-room.

But Caporushes refused to go, for she also was a grand dancer, and she was afraid that when she heard the fiddles starting a merry jig, she might start dancing.  So she excused herself by saying she was too tired with scraping pots and washing saucepans; and when the others went off, she crept up to her bed.

But alas! and alack-a-day!  The door had been left open, and as she lay in her bed she could hear the fiddlers fiddling away and the tramp of dancing feet.

Then she upped and off with her cap and robe of rushes, and there she was ever so fine and tidy.  She was in the ball-room in a trice joining in the jig, and none was more beautiful or better dressed than she.  While as for her dancing...!

Her master’s son singled her out at once, and with the finest of bows engaged her as his partner for the rest of the night.  So she danced away to her heart’s content, while the whole room was agog, trying to find out who the beautiful young stranger could be.  But she kept her own counsel and, making some excuse, slipped away before the ball finished; so when her fellow-servants came to bed, there she was in hers in her cap and robe of rushes, pretending to be fast asleep.

Next morning, however, the maids could talk of nothing but the beautiful stranger.

“You should ha’ seen her,” they said.  “She was the loveliest young lady as ever you see, not a bit like the likes o’ we.  Her golden hair was all silvered wi’ pearls, and her dress—­law!  You wouldn’t believe how she was dressed.  Young master never took his eyes off her.”

And Caporushes only smiled and said, with a twinkle in her eye, “I should like to see her, but I don’t think I ever shall.”

“Oh yes, you will,” they replied, “for young master has ordered another ball to-night in hopes she will come to dance again.”

But that evening Caporushes refused once more to go to the gallery, saying she was too tired with cleaning pots and scraping saucepans.  And once more when she heard the fiddlers fiddling she said to herself, “I must have one dance—­just one with the young master:  he dances so beautifully.”  For she felt certain he would dance with her.

And sure enough, when she had upped and offed with her cap and robe of rushes, there he was at the door waiting for her to come; for he had determined to dance with no one else.