It was late before the king put in an appearance; he did so at last, however, and very pleased he seemed when he gazed about him. Then his eye sought Harry’s; he was anxious to know if he was also pleased with—
The Feast of Flowers.
Harry hastened to assure him that he was more than pleased, he was delighted.
Would the queen of his country be pleased if she were here? That was his next question, and he laughed as he put it till his sides shook again. The answer was, “Undoubtedly.”
I do not intend to give a complete description of all the performances of the day—they were far too numerous. Suffice it to say that there was a grand procession of warriors, headed by the flower-bedecked amazons; after the soldiers came the king’s butchers or executioners; and next a crew of naked natives, bearing a pig, a goat, and several cocks and hens for the slaughter. The goat looked rather astonished and kicked a little at times; the cocks looked boldly unconcerned; but the pig was a lusty one, he was not content with kicking and biting, but he screamed so loudly that the sound, or bleating one might call it, of the chanters was hardly heard. All this, accompanied by the beating of tom-toms and the occasional unearthly yells of the amazons, made up a concert that it is far beyond my powers of description to give the reader any correct notion of.
The animals were slain. The amazons danced around the hole into which the creatures’ blood had been poured, frequently dipping their fingers therein and besmearing their faces, which certainly did not improve their grim beauty.
Then the procession returned to the king’s enclosure, and more wild dancing was carried on, much to the delectation of his majesty.
Suddenly he wheeled round to the mat where Harry and Raggy were squatted.
“Can you dance?” said the king. “Yes, you must dance.”