When the applause died out the lights went with it. Only a flickering gas jet over the “throne” gave the location of the room, so that while figures moved around, and voices buzzed, the programme could not be guessed at.
Five minutes of suspense passed, then the lights were flashed on again.
The “throne,” a big couch covered with umbrellas and parasols supporting all sorts of colored divan covers, gave the effect of an ancient chair of state, or royal seat.
Cologne reclined there as if she had been wafted from Greece, all the way through these common centuries. She seemed made to be a queen. Her costume was as wonderful as it was gorgeous, the most prominent feature being the beaded portiers from Edna’s room, and they fell so gracefully over the robe of cheese cloth, donated by Molly Richards. Her crown was golden, real, good paper-of-gold, and this was studded with as many gem hatpins as could be purloined, or borrowed.
It was at once suspected that the very dark “slave,” who waved a feather duster over the queen’s head was Tavia, because there were no sleeves in her wrappings, and she wore on her feet a pair of grass slippers, taken from the wall of a stranger. This costume, indicating comfort, betrayed Tavia, while, on the other side of the royal seat, Ned could be discerned, because her brown grease paint, or salve, was carelessly left off over one eye.
The chief slave was tall and masterful. In “his” hands he held the numbers of the “victims,” written on slips of paper, ready to call them off to the queen. “His” costume was another of those draperies, the absence of which from windows and doors, left rooms drafty that night, and “his” helmet was a rubber hat, of the rain order, that went down under the chin, and covered the ears and which, incidentally, belonged to the bell boy.
To describe all the “get-ups” and “make-ups” would bring the affairs far into the night, whereas the fun should be over by ten sharp, according to school rules, so we proceed.
“Enter!” called the slave, and then the vestal virgins trouped in, doing their best not to trip up in the bed sheets they trailed.
The waving feather dusters rested. The queen lolled effectively.
A “classic” speech was made that didn’t mean anything, then “number one” was called. The first vestal stepped up to the throne.