She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her—the latter, in a marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself, and yet in great terror lest the others should tell.
As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and presently there was a call from behind the screen, “Are you ready, good people?”
“Go it,” answered Carey.
“Are the elders ready?” said Beatrice’s voice.
“Papa, don’t go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!” cried Willy.
“Ay, ay, all attention,” said grandpapa. “Now for it!”
The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown, ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a tiara and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them a nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, adorned with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the form of ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. As Uncle Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it proceeded in due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and present them to the king and princess in the name of the Marquis Carabbas.
The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis might be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him, until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner, “I’ve told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won’t believe me, I can’t help it!” and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful a manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to have his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in preparation for Scene II.
Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so as to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close to the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his head, and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, reclined Alex, his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an old, long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had with some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little figure in a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox’s brush, and with Mrs. Frederick Langford’s three feathers, and a coat bearing marvellous resemblance to Beatrice’s own black velvet spencer, crossed over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew full well. “Do thou stand for my father,” began this droll little shape, “and examine me in the particulars of my life.”
It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, acted beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes were often directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, obtained not only a view of Prince Hal’s pink petticoat, but of a great Shakespeare laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of the heir apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was strongly suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It was with great spirit that the parting appeal was given, “Banish fat Jack, and banish all the world!” And there was great applause when fat Jack and Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; though Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain historical and antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was likely to wear the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts at Eastcheap.