And she insisted on trying again and again, until it was evident that she could never succeed in getting the slipper on, even if she tried for years.
“I told you so!” said Euphronia. “Now it is my turn”; and she stretched out her ugly foot so quickly that she nearly knocked the poor attendant over. She, too, struggled and wriggled, but it was all in vain, and at last the courier became very impatient.
“It is no use, madam,” said he, “the slipper will not fit either of you. Are there any other ladies in the house?”
“No,” snapped Euphronia, “there are not; and I’m certain that I could get the shoe on if you would only let me try just once more. My foot was almost inside when you snatched the slipper away.”
“I think you are mistaken, madam,” answered the courier politely; “there was a young girl who opened the door for us. Who was she?”
“What, do you mean Cinderslut?” cried Euphronia, with a mighty scornful laugh. “She, you must know, is our kitchen-maid, who does all our dirty work!”
“No matter,” answered the courier firmly. “The Prince’s orders are not to leave out anybody, whether of high rank or low, so with your leave I will try.”
“This is really infamous!” cried Euphronia, with a stamp of her foot, but it was useless to argue, for the courier without wasting any more words walked into the kitchen. Cinderella rose in surprise as he entered, and even in her ragged working dress she looked so lovely that the courier opened his eyes.
