‘You might be the Princess’s brother,’ Alison suggested.
‘Not me,’ said Conrad scornfully, ‘I’ll be the captain of the ship.’
‘In a turban the brother would be, with the Benares cloak, and the Persian dagger out of the cabinet in the drawing-room,’ Alison went on unmoved.
‘I’ll be that,’ said George.
‘No, you won’t, I shall, so there,’ said Conrad. ‘You can be the captain of the ship.’
(But in the end both boys were captains, [p239 because that meant being on the boat, whereas being the Princess’s brother, however turbanned, only meant standing on the bank. And there is no rule to prevent captains wearing turbans and Persian daggers, except in the Navy where, of course, it is not done.)
So then they all tore up to the attic where the dressing-up trunk was, and pulled out all the dressing-up things on to the floor. And all the time they were dressing, Alison was telling the others what they were to say and do. The Princess wore a white satin skirt and a red flannel blouse and a veil formed of several motor scarves of various colours. Also a wreath of pink roses off one of Ethel’s old hats, and a pair of pink satin slippers with sparkly buckles.
Kenneth wore a blue silk dressing-jacket and a yellow sash, a lace collar, and a towel turban. And the others divided between them an eastern dressing-gown, once the property of their grandfather, a black spangled scarf, very holey, a pair of red and white football stockings, a Chinese coat, and two old muslin curtains, which, rolled up, made turbans of enormous size and fierceness.
On the landing outside cousin Ethel’s open door Alison paused and said, ‘I say!’
‘Oh! come on,’ said Conrad, ‘we haven’t [p240 fixed the Chinese lanterns yet, and it’s getting dark.’