Avery Goodman was then presented with a bag of flour and Adam Goodsport was handed a bag of soot.
They went at it hand over fist, and in a few moments the blacking and whiting process was so complete that both were pronounced perfect transformations and all bets were off.
Faces, hands and clothes were alike befloured and besooted, until Goodman was a veritable Blackamoor while Adam Goodsport looked like a Marcelline.
A few eyebrows indicated a suspicion that Big Bill Petticoat's bride was a Little Mischief, but nobody said anything about it.
“If I can only reform them,” Warble thought to herself, “if I can only make them like and enjoy this innocent fun instead of wearing their poor brains out over capitalled Art and Literature.”
“Now,” she said, briskly, “we're going to play a game I learned in Shanghai. All take off your shoes and stockings. No one excused—come on—off with them.”
Beer and a few other maids came in to assist the ladies, the men were properly valeted, and the barefooted crowd sat waiting further orders.
Daisy Snow made a remark about being a maiden with reluctant feet, but nobody noticed it.
Several seemed rather relieved than otherwise at the condition imposed upon them.
“Now,” said Warble, but before she could go further, Adam Goodsport butted in with: