34 THE CINDERELLA FROCK.

CHAPTER IV.

Down came the same bright sunshine on
the morrow, bringing too the same array of
sunny faces, through the old school-house
gate, and calling such echoes into the air, the
spot seemed haunted ground. And now day
flew after day, and in every one our Alice
grew less and less a stranger. The pretty
Cinderella dress got exchanged for every-day
apparel ; still, though weeks and weeks had
gone by, little Alice was a marvel, still. She
was never wild, like the rest, never got angry;
never told tales, but mingled in their plays a
glad, gentle, low-voiced thing, a check on all
their boisterousness, and yet, enhancing a