“Indeed it is,” said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair, exhausted.
At this moment two doves and a raven appeared,—the little boys, who had been dancing eagerly in Mother Goose’s establishment, and now came down for ice-cream.
“I hardly know how to sit down,” said Elizabeth Eliza, “for I am sure Mrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I will venture it.”
Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged in a row, calmly eating ice-cream.
“I think the truth is,” said Mr. Peterkin, “that we represent historical people, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. That is, I observe, what the others are. We shall know better another time.”
“If we only ever get home,” said Mrs. Peterkin, “I shall not wish to come again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and it is so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and going round and round in this way.”
“I am afraid we shall never reach home,” said Agamemnon, who had been silent for some time; “we may have to spend the night here. I find I have lost our checks for our clothes in the cloak-room!”
“Spend the night in a booth, in Cleopatra’s turban!” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin.
“We should like to come every night,” cried the little boys.
“But to spend the night,” repeated Mrs. Peterkin.