When night fell and she wanted to leave, the Prince was more desirous than ever to accompany her, but she darted away from him so quickly that he could not keep up with her. But the Prince had used a stratagem, and had caused the steps to be covered with cobbler's wax. The consequence was, that as the maiden sprang down them, her left slipper remained sticking there. The Prince took it up. It was small and dainty, and entirely made of gold. The next morning he went with it to Ashenputtel's Father, and said to him, 'No other shall become my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.' The two sisters were delighted at that, for they both had beautiful feet. The eldest went into the room intending to try on the slipper, and her Mother stood beside her. But her great toe prevented her getting it on, her foot was too long. Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, 'Cut off the toe; when you are Queen you won't have to walk any more.' The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the slipper, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode away with her. However, they had to pass the grave on the way, and there sat the two Doves on the hazel-tree, and cried: 'Prithee, look back, prithee, look back, There's blood on the track, The shoe is too small, At home the true Bride is waiting thy call.' Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. So he turned his horse round and carried the false Bride back to her home, and said that she was not the right one; the second sister must try the shoe. Then she went into the room, and succeeded in getting her toes into the shoe, but her heel was too big. Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, 'Cut a bit off your heel; when you are Queen you won't have to walk any more.' The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode off with her. As they passed the grave, the two Doves were sitting on the hazel-tree, and crying: 'Prithee, look back, prithee, look back, There's blood on the track, The shoe is too small, At home the true Bride is waiting thy call.' He looked down at her foot and saw that it was streaming with blood, and there were deep red spots on her stockings. Then he turned his horse and brought the false Bride back to her home. 'This is not the right one either,' he said. 'Have you no other daughter?' 'No,' said the man. 'There is only a daughter of my late wife's, a puny, stunted drudge, but she cannot possibly be the Bride.' The Prince said that she must be sent for. But the Mother answered, 'Oh no, she is much too dirty; she mustn't be seen on any account.' He was, however, absolutely determined to have his way, and they were obliged to summon Ashenputtel.