“My beloved subjects,” said the Lord of Misrule, “you are sure some actors! I didn’t know I had so much talent concealed about my kingdom. I shall now aim for a higher touch of histrionic art. Let us stop at nothing! Let us give the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. I will command Miss Galbraith to play the part of Juliet, and if no one volunteers as Romeo, I’ll modestly remark that I’m a ripping good actor myself.”
“Too late,” said Roger, calmly; “I’ve already signed for the part,” and taking Mona’s hand, he led her toward the staircase.
“I can’t!” protested Mona. “I don’t know a word of it!”
“Can’t! Won’t!” cried the Lord of Misrule, in stentorian tones. “Those words are not allowed in this my Court. Ha, maiden, dost desire the dungeon for thine? Dost hanker after prison fare? Fie! Get to thy place and take thy cue.”
Mona flung her lace handkerchief on her head for a little Juliet cap, and accepting a large lace scarf which a lady offered her as she passed, and an enormous bunch of roses, which Jim hastily took from a vase and gave her, they all agreed she was perfectly costumed for Juliet.
Upstairs she went, and drawing a chair to the railing, looked over at Roger below. He had hastily opened a small cupboard, and caught up a broad black hat of Adèle’s, with a long, willowed ostrich plume. He put it on, so that the feather hung straight down his face, and he kept blowing it out of his eyes. Daisy had offered him a gay, flowered chiffon scarf as he passed her, and he tied it round his waist like a sash.
“‘Oh, Romeo! Romeo! Romeo!’” began Mona.
“‘Wherefore,’” prompted Roger in a stage whisper.
“‘Wherefore,’” said Mona, obediently, “whence, whither, why——”
“Never mind,” said Roger, calmly. “I’ll say the lines you forget. ‘Wherefore art thou Romeo?’ Now for the second act. I wish to goodness I could be a glove upon that paw of yours.”