The members of the orchestra had come in white dresses, and gave quite a festive appearance to the room as they took their places and commenced the overture. Templeton was first on the programme, and opened the proceedings with a procession. Their players were dressed as boys and girls in Old English costume, the former in smock-frocks, large felt hats adorned with bunches of cowslips, and knees tied with knots of gay ribbons; the latter in low-cut dresses, muslin cross-overs, mob-caps and mittens, so that the whole looked exactly as if they had stepped out of a Kate Greenaway picture-book. To celebrate the season they sang a Christmas carol, and then proceeded to give a charming and elaborate exhibition of morris-dancing. They had been carefully drilled, and went through the most intricate steps without a hitch, waving their sprigs of holly, coloured handkerchiefs, or ribbon-tipped wands, according to the requirements of the measure. They sang well, and rendered all their choruses crisply and in exact accordance with the actions of the dances. With the orchestra to augment the music the effect was most gay, and gave a vivid impression of the Merrie England of former days.
Templeton was succeeded by Newington Green, which had taken up a totally different line. It had concentrated its energies on its younger members, and its first item was a dance of fairies and elves by small girls of nine or ten years of age. They had been selected with a view to their appearance. The fairies were all blue-eyed and fair-haired, and in their thin gauzy robes looked true gossamer sprites, as light as air. Their little feet tripped about as if scarcely touching the stage, and they left a general impression among the audience that they were of such sylph-like and ethereal composition that it was almost possible to see through them. Their partners, the elves, were all brunettes, and wore pale-green tights and helmets made to represent big bluebells. Both they and their sister fairies carried long garlands of flowers, which they used in the performance of their dance, now holding them aloft, now waving them to and fro, and now joining them in a floral chain to link the sprites together. The songs chosen were: "The Fairy Pipers", and "The Horns of Elfland", and Mildred had contrived so admirably to arrange the melodies with pizzicato passages on the violins that the ring of the little magic pipes and horns was unmistakable, and the audience listened almost spellbound to the fairy music.
When the pretty scene was over, it was rivalled by another of equal interest. As the fairies and elves danced off the stage, a troupe of butterflies flitted on instead. Their costumes had been prepared by the Newington Green art mistress and her best pupils. They were of thin butter muslin, made extremely full from the neck, and with a thin piece of bamboo stitched down the length of the skirt under each arm. When these bamboos were seized at the bottom, and raised above the level of the head, the skirt extended so as to give an exact impression of wings. All the dresses had been painted with the characteristic markings of certain butterflies, and as their owners gently waved them about, it seemed as if Fritillaries, Tortoiseshells, Purple Emperors, Swallow-tails, Camberwell Beauties, Painted Ladies, Red Admirals, and Peacocks were holding carnival together upon the stage. They danced a charming measure, twisting and turning so as to display the splendour of their wings, and winding in and out as if flitting about among the flowers. Each girl had a helmet contrived to represent a butterfly's head, with long antennæ and large round eyes, which further enhanced the insect effect, and wore long brown stockings drawn over sandals, giving a far more characteristic effect than shoes. The music was dainty and appropriate, and after responding to a vigorous encore, the butterflies flitted away, having covered Newington Green with glory.
It was now the turn of St. Cyprian's. Their chief feature was the grandeur of their procession, so an opening march announced their advent. They filed on to the stage with slow and stately steps, in all the pomp and majesty which they had been able to get together. First came the heralds, magnificent creatures in silk and velvet, holding long trumpets from which hung emblazoned banners; then my Lord Chamberlain, in flowered robe and long cloak, bearing his wand of office, and ushering in with much ceremony the King and Queen. Lottie really looked very fine in her gold-embroidered doublet, crimson cloak, long silk stockings, and magnificent crown; and Rose Percival, in pearl-trimmed white satin, with a mock-diamond necklace, her long flaxen hair arranged to fall over her shoulders below her waist, and her pretty face surmounted by her tiara, was regal enough to rival the monarchs of story-book fame. Their Court was not behind in gorgeousness. The gentlemen-in-waiting looked true cavaliers with their curled lovelocks, lace ruffles, and plumed hats, and the ladies outvied them in the gayness of their colours and the elaboration of their ruffs.
In this part of the revels there were a few speeches; the King and Queen were enthroned, songs were sung, and an old-fashioned dance was performed by the courtiers, such as might have taken place at some pageant of the fifteenth century. At its conclusion, instead of retiring from the platform, the royalties kept their thrones, and their maids of honour and gentlemen-in-waiting grouped themselves picturesquely on either side. They were to act stage audience for the mummers who came to play before the Court. This important department of the entertainment had been undertaken by the High School, which had risen nobly to the occasion. First came St. George of England, St. Andrew of Scotland, St. Patrick of Ireland, and St. David of Wales, all arrayed as knights in armour and all mounted on hobby-horses. They wore surcoats emblazoned with their countries' coats of arms, and carried pikes and shields; and with the permission of the King and Queen they engaged in a spirited tournament, making their hobbies prance about with fiery zeal, and dealing resounding blows on their pasteboard armour. But their internal rivalries were soon put an end to by the entrance of a common enemy—a huge and terrific green dragon, a scaly monster with horrible jaws and businesslike talons with which it suggestively clawed the air. It immediately made for its opponents, and there followed a grand scene of dodging, scuffling, and pursuing before the fabulous beast was finally subdued and bound in chains.
A jester in motley costume, with hood and bauble, was a special feature of the mummers, and provided immense fun as he made his jokes and plied his comic antics upon the other characters, belabouring John Bull with his bladder, rallying the doctor on the virtues of his pills, and tripping up the constable with the easy mirth of the clown in an old-fashioned pantomime. Quite out of breath with their violent exertions, the various champions ranged themselves on the steps of the throne, to give the audience the pleasure of beholding them during the performance of the next item on the programme.
Marston Grove School was in no way behind the others. To make a variety, it had provided a series of "Songs in Character", mostly chosen from nursery rhymes. "Where are you going to, my pretty maid?" was acted with lifelike coyness by a charming country wench swinging her milk can; Jack and Jill came together, bearing their pail between them; little Miss Muffet fled in a panic from the onslaught of a gigantic spider; six pretty innocents danced round a mulberry bush; Bo-Peep lamented the loss of her sheep; and Wee Willie Winkie stole about in his night-gown, blowing sand into the eyes of his companions. The costumes were charming, and each little scene was perfect in itself.
The Anglo-German, the last on the programme, had arranged a totally different display as a final effect. A large grandfather's clock stood at the back of the platform, and had before appeared only a part of the stage scenery. The space in front of this was now cleared, and after an appropriate speech from the King, and a song from the mummers, all waited with close attention while the chimes rang out and the hour was tolled. As the last stroke died away, the door of the clock-case opened, and out trooped, one after another, a procession of wonderful personages. First came old Father Time, with scythe and hour-glass, and behind him the months of the year, from snowy January to rosy June, corn-crowned October and holly-decked December. Then followed many a well-known nursery character—Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, Bluebeard, Aladdin, Hop o' my Thumb, the Three Bears, Cinderella, Jack the Giant Killer, Beauty and the Beast, Catskin, the Snow Queen, Rumpelstiltskin, Robinson Crusoe, Dick Whittington, and Goody Two-Shoes.
Ranging themselves at the front of the stage, they performed a pretty series of German action-songs, very appropriate to the season, and ending in compliments to the audience. As a climax to the whole, Father Christmas made his appearance, bearing in his arms the New Year (a darling three-year-old baby, borrowed for the occasion), and in a little speech thanked everybody for coming to the performance, and gave hearty good wishes to all for the coming holidays. With one final parade round the stage the pageant retired. For the last time the butterflies flitted, the fairies tripped, the dragon roared, and the jester swung his bladder; then amid a storm of clapping and cheering, headed by Father Time and with Father Christmas at the rear, the long procession wound itself off the platform and behind the scenes, to the accompaniment of sprightly music from the band.
"Your orchestra really was a great addition, Mildred," said Mrs. Graham that evening. "It kept everybody together, and made the whole affair sound most gay."