Each time a new duchess swept slowly and majestically by, Mary turned a quick glance toward Phil to see if he were properly impressed; but when the Queen was announced, she had no eyes for anything but the regal figure proceeding slowly up the aisle, amid the admiring applause which almost drowned the music of the march.
It was at this juncture that Phil glanced back at Mary. Her face so plainly showed the admiration which filled her that he continued to watch her with an amused smile, saying to Roberta in an undertone:
"Look at Mary's rapt expression! She's always adored queens and such things, and now she feels that she's up against the real article."
"I don't wonder," answered Roberta, herself so interested that she turned her back on Phil until the royal party had passed by. Two little pages in costumes of white and gold, with plumed hats and spangled capes, bore the royal train, and Roberta tried to upset the dignity of one of them, who was a little friend of hers, by whispering, "Hello, Gerald, where did you get that feather?"
In Mary's estimation it was not the diamond crown that marked the Queen as especially regal, not the jewelled sceptre nor the white satin gown, heavily embroidered in gold roses and gleaming with brilliants; it was the fact that the long train borne by the little pages was of cloth-of-gold. To Mary, cloth-of-gold was more royal than ermine or purple velvet, and lovingly associated in her thought with the white samite of Tennyson's idyls. It was cloth-of-gold that the Lily Maid of Astolat had worn to her burying, and the only piece that Mary had ever seen was the drapery over the bier of the fair Elaine, when Lloyd took the part of the Lily Maid, in the tableaux at The Beeches. When she caught sight of it she clasped her hands still tighter, and never took her eyes from it until the Queen was seated on her throne, and the long, shining folds swept down beside her, the full length of the steps.
The presentation scene followed. In the name of The Order of the Alamo, the Queen was given a magnificent necklace, with a jewelled pendant. After that the visiting duchesses were received, representing many towns of Texas, from El Paso to the gulf. They came with their maids of honor, and when they had been met by their lords-in-waiting and their esquires, the entertainment for the Queen began.
Grecian maidens bearing garlands of roses danced before her. The second group was of seven little barefoot girls, carrying golden lyres, and forming a rainbow background for another small maid who gave a cymbal dance. The Grecian dances were followed by a gavotte of the time of Louis XIII, in which all the dukes and duchesses took part.
"They danced the minuet last year," commented Gay. "This is the end of the performance, but we'll wait to watch them go out, on their way to the Queen's ball. I went to that too, last year. These are good seats; we catch them coming and going."
The audience remaining seated until all the members of the Court had passed out two by two, had ample time for comment and observation. Bogey, who, seeing Mary's absorbing interest in the scene, had considerately left her undisturbed most of the time, now leaned over and began to talk. As Gay had once said, "When it comes to giving a girl a good time, Bogey is quite the nicest officer in the bunch," and Phil, overhearing scraps of their conversation, concluded that Mary was finding her escort as entertaining as the pageant. A backward glance now and then showed that she was not watching the recessional as closely as she was listening to him.