“Five,” observed Calpurnia. “One more than Cæsar’s toga. We had to have our costumes distinct in some way.”
“A remarkable hat, that,” nodded Mrs. Lot, her eye catching sight of a Virot creation at the top of the page.
“Reminds me of Eve’s description of an autumn scene in the garden,” smiled Mrs. Noah. “Gorgeous in its foliage, beautiful thing; though I shouldn’t have dared wear one in the Ark, with all those hungry animals browsing about the upper and lower decks.”
“I wonder,” remarked Cleopatra, as she cocked her head to one side to take in the full effect of an attractive summer gown—“I wonder how that waist would make up in blue crépon, with a yoke of lace and a stylishly contrasting stock of satin ribbon?”
“It would depend upon how you finished the sleeves,” remarked Madame Récamier. “If you had a few puffs of rich brocaded satin set in with deeply folded pleats it wouldn’t be bad.”
“I think it would be very effective,” observed Mrs. Noah, “but a trifle too light for general wear. I should want some kind of a wrap with it.”
“It does need that,” assented Elizabeth. “A wrap made of passementerie and jet, with a mousseline de soie ruche about the neck held by a chou, would make it fascinating.”
“The committee on treachery is ready to report,” said Delilah, rising from her corner, where she and Lucretia Borgia had been having so animated a discussion that they had failed to observe the others crowding about Cleopatra and the papers.
“A little sombre,” said Cleopatra. “The corsage is effective, but I don’t like those basque terminations. I’ve never approved of those full godets—”