“You are so nice and complimentary,” said Patty, flashing a smile at him, and then they went downstairs together.
Dinner was a real Christmas feast. The table was properly decorated with red ribbons and red candles and holly, and everybody had souvenirs and Christmassy sort of trinkets, and everybody was very gay and festive, and an air of Christmas jollity pervaded the atmosphere.
After dinner they all returned to the great hall, where the Christmas tree was again lighted to add to the holiday effect.
Then Patty and Hal, who had let Adèle into their secret, slipped away from the crowd, and ran up to the nursery, where Fräulein was awaiting them.
The baby was asleep in the next room, so they must needs be careful not to awaken her, and they tiptoed about as Fräulein helped them to don the robes she had made.
The Turkey red she had fashioned into a full-draped cloak, which she adjusted around Hal’s broad shoulders. It was trimmed with white fur, and was caught up on one shoulder, toga fashion, with a spray of holly. A massive gilt pasteboard crown she put on his head, and gave him a long wand or sceptre covered with gilt paper and topped with a cap and bells.
“I wonder if they’ll know I’m Lord of Misrule,” whispered Hal, as he stalked up and down before the mirror, swishing his draperies about in regal fashion.
“If they don’t, I’ll tell ’em,” said Patty. “I wonder if they’ll know what I am.”
“You look like an angel,” said Hal, as he gazed at her.
The garment Fräulein had made for Patty was simply straight, flowing breadths of the white illusion, which fell straight from her shoulders, her pink gown beneath giving it a faint rosy tinge. From her head the illusion rippled in a long veil, floating down behind, and there were long angel sleeves of the same material.