Muslin | Page 9

set
along the walls. Between them a strip of carpet, worked with roses and
lilies, down which the girls advanced when called to receive their
prizes, stretched its blue and slender length.
'His Grace is coming!' a nun cried, running in, and instantly the
babbling of voices ceased, and four girls hastened to the pianos placed
on either side of the stage, two left-hands struck a series of chords in
the bass, the treble notes replied, and, to the gallant measure of a
French polka, a stately prelate entered, smiling benediction as he
advanced, the soft clapping of feminine palms drowning, for a moment,
the slangy strains of the polka.
When the Bishop was seated on his high throne, the back of which
extended some feet above his head, and as soon as the crowd of visitors
had been accommodated with chairs around him, a nun made her way
through the room, seeking anxiously among the girls. She carried in her
hand a basket filled with programmes, all rolled and neatly tied with

pieces of different coloured ribbon. These she distributed to the ten
tiniest little children she could find, and, advancing five from either
side, they formed in a line and curtsied to the Bishop. One little dot,
whose hair hung about her head like a golden mist, nearly lost her
balance; she was, however, saved from falling by a companion, and
then, like a group of kittens, they tripped down the strip of blue carpet
and handed the programmes to the guests, who leaned forward as if
anxious to touch their hands, to stroke their shining hair.
The play was now ready to begin, and Alice felt she was going from
hot to cold, for when the announcement printed on the programme, that
she was the author of the comedy of King Cophetua had been read, all
eyes were fixed upon her; the Bishop, after eyeing her intently, bent
towards the Reverend Mother and whispered to her. Cecilia clasped
Alice's hand and said: 'You must not be afraid, dear; I know it will be
all right.'
And the little play was as charming as it was guileless. The old legend
had been arranged--as might have been expected from a
schoolgirl--simply and unaffectedly. The scene opened in a room in the
palace of the King, and when a chorus, supposed to be sung by the
townspeople, was over, a Minister entered hurriedly. The little children
uttered a cry of delight; they did not recognize their companion in her
strange disguise. A large wig, with brown curls hanging over the
shoulders, almost hid the face, that had been made to look quite aged
by a few clever touches of the pencil about the eyes and mouth. She
was dressed in a long garment, something between an ulster and a
dressing-gown. It fell just below her knees, for it had been decided by
the Reverend Mother that it were better that there should be a slight
display of ankles than the least suspicion of trousers. The subject was a
delicate one, and for some weeks past a look of alarm had not left the
face of the nun in charge of the wardrobe. But these considerations only
amused the girls, and now, delighted at the novelty of her garments, the
Minister strutted about the stage complaining of the temper of the
Dowager Queen. 'Who could help it if the King wouldn't marry? Who
could make him leave his poetry and music for a pretty face if he didn't
care to do so? He had already refused blue eyes, black eyes, brown eyes.

However, the new Princess was a very beautiful person, and ought, all
things considered, to be accepted by the King. She must be passing
through the city at the moment.'
On this the Queen entered. The first words she spoke were inaudible,
but, gathering courage, she trailed her white satin, with its large
brocaded pattern, in true queenly fashion, and questioned the Minister
as to his opinion of the looks of the new Princess. But she gave no
point to her words. The scene was, fortunately, a short one, and no
sooner had they disappeared than a young man entered. He held a lute
in his left hand, and with his right he twanged the strings idly. He was
King Cophetua, and many times during rehearsal Alice had warned
May that her reading of the character was not right; but May did not
seem able to accommodate herself to the author's view of the character,
and, after a few minutes, fell back into her old swagger; and now,
excited by the presence of an audience, by the footlights, by the long
coat under which she knew her large, well-shaped legs could be seen,
she forgot her promises, and strolled about like