POLICEMAN (_desperate_). Stay where you are, and—and I’ll have a look for her. CINDERELLA. You’re too kind. POLICEMAN. Not at all. I must be stepping at any rate. If I can lay hands on her I’ll march her here, though I have to put the handcuffs on her. GLADYS (_looking up_). I think I heard a knock! (_The_ POLICEMAN _looks out, shakes his head, and finally departs after a queer sort of handshake with_ MISS THING.) CINDERELLA. He’s a nice man. GLADYS. Have you known him long? CINDERELLA (_thinking it out_). A longish time. He’s head of the secret police; him and me used to play together as children down in Badgery. His folks live in a magnificent castle, with two doors. (_She becomes a little bewildered._) I’m all mixed up. (_The children are soon asleep. She wanders aimlessly to the door. The wall closes on the little room, and we now see her standing in the street. Our_ POLICEMAN _returns and flashes his lantern on her_.) CINDERELLA. It’s you! POLICEMAN. It’s me. But there’s no Godmother! There’s not a soul.... No.... Good night, Cinderella. Go inside. CINDERELLA (_doggedly_). Not me! I don’t feel the cold—not much. And one has to take risks to get a Prince. The only thing I’m feared about is my feet. If they was to swell I mightn’t be able to get the slippers on, and he would have naught to do with me. POLICEMAN. What slippers? If you won’t go back, I’ll stop here with you. CINDERELLA. No, I think there’s more chance of her coming if I’m alone. POLICEMAN. I’m very troubled about you. CINDERELLA (_wistfully_). Do you think I’m just a liar? Maybe I am. You see I’m all mixed up. I’m sore in need of somebody to help me out. POLICEMAN. I would do it if I could. CINDERELLA. I’m sure. (_Anxiously_.) Are you good at riddles? (_He shakes his head._) There’s always a riddle before you can marry into a royal family. POLICEMAN (_with increased gloom_). The whole thing seems to be most terrible difficult. CINDERELLA. Yes.... Good night. POLICEMAN. You won’t let me stay with you? CINDERELLA. No. (_He puts his lantern on the ground beside her._) What’s that for? POLICEMAN (_humbly_). It’s just a sort of guard for you. (_He takes off his muffler and puts it several times round her neck._) CINDERELLA. Nice! POLICEMAN. Good luck! (_She finds it easiest just to nod in reply._) I wish I was a Prince. CINDERELLA (_suddenly struck by the idea_). You’re kind of like him. (_He goes away. She sits down on the step to wait. She shivers. She takes the muffler off her neck and winds it round her more valuable feet. She falls asleep._ _Darkness comes, and snow. From somewhere behind, the shadowy figure of_ CINDERELLA’S _Godmother, beautiful in a Red Cross Nurse’s uniform, is seen looking benignantly on the waif_. CINDERELLA _is just a little vague, huddled form—there is no movement_.) GODMOTHER. Cinderella, my little godchild!