“Fair Titania,” said he to the lady who appeared to demand, and therefore received, the most attention, “allow me to hand you to your throne.”
“Many thanks, good Puck,” replied the lady; “we are well placed; but dear me, we haven’t brought, or we have lost, our vinaigrette; we positively cannot go without it. What can our women have been about?”
“Pease-blossom and Mustard-seed are much to blame,” replied Tinfoil; “but shall I run back for it?”
“Yes,” replied the lady, “and be here again ere the leviathan can swim a league.”
“I’ll put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes,” replied the gentleman, stepping out of the boat.
“Won’t you be a little out of breath before you come back, sir?” said Tom, joining the conversation.
This remark, far from giving offence, was followed by a general laugh. Before Mr Tinfoil was out of sight, the lost vinaigrette was dropped out of the lady’s handkerchief; he was therefore recalled; and the whole of the party being arranged in the two boats, we shoved off; the third boat, in which the provender had been stowed, followed us, and was occupied by the two attendants, a call-boy and scene-shifter, who were addressed by Tinfoil as Caliban and Stephano.
“Is all our company here?” said a pert-looking, little pug-nosed man, who had taken upon himself the part of Quince the carpenter, in the Midsummer Night’s Dream. “You, Nick Bottom,” continued he, addressing another, “are set down for Pyramus.”
The party addressed did not, however, appear to enter into the humour. He was a heavy-made, rather corpulent, white-faced personage, dressed in white jean trousers, white waistcoat, brown coat, and white hat. Whether anything had put him out of humour I know not, but it is evident that he was the butt of the ladies and of most of the party.
“I’ll just thank you,” replied this personage, whose real name was Winterbottom, “to be quiet, Mr Western, for I shan’t stand any of your nonsense.”