A terrible thing happened just as the clock struck twelve.  All my clothes turned into rags, and I just ran out of the room, I was so frightened.  Then I remembered what my Fairy Godmother had said about leaving before twelve o’clock.  I suppose she knew what would happen if I didn’t.  I’m afraid I left a glass slipper behind—­I hope she won’t mind about it.

Well, I’ve had a lovely time.  Even if I never see the Prince again, I shall always have this to look back to.  I don’t mind what happens now.

Thursday.—­I am going to marry the prince!  I can’t believe it is true.  Perhaps it is only a dream, and I shall wake up soon, but even if it’s a dream it’s just as good as if it were real.  It was all because of the slipper I left behind.  The Prince said that he would marry the person whom it fitted, because he had fallen in love with the lady who wore it at the ball (me!), and so everybody tried it on.  And they came to our house, and Sister Bert tried it on.  She pulled her skirt up to her knees and made everybody laugh, but even then she couldn’t get into it.  And Sister Fred made a lot of faces, but she couldn’t.  So I said, “Let me try,” and they all laughed, but the Prince said I should, and of course it fitted at once.  Then they all recognized me, and the Prince kissed me, and a whole lot of people came into the house who had never been invited, and we had the trapeze out again, and there was juggling and ventriloquism, and we all sang songs about somebody called Flanagan (whom I don’t think I have ever met), and Sister Bert kept sitting down suddenly on the floor. (But the Prince didn’t think this was at all funny, so I expect I must have been right all the time when I have only pretended to laugh.  I used to think that perhaps I hadn’t a sense of humour.) And then the Prince kissed me again, and my Fairy Godmother came in and kissed us both.  Of course we do owe it all to her really, and I shall tell Charming so.

I do think I am a wonderful person!

FATHER CHRISTMAS

Outside in the street the rain fell pitilessly, but inside the Children’s Shop all was warmth and brightness.  Happy young people of all ages pressed along, and I had no sooner opened the door than I was received into the eager stream of shoppers and hurried away to Fairyland.  A slight block at one corner pitched me into an old, white-bearded gentleman who was standing next to me.  Instantly my hat was in my hand.

“I beg your pardon,” I said with a bow.  “I was—­Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were real.”  I straightened him up, looked at his price, and wondered whether I should buy him.

“What do you mean by real?” he said.

I started violently and took my hat off again.

“I am very stupid this morning,” I began.  “The fact is I mistook you for a toy.  A foolish error.”