“Prostrate thyself!” ordered she, who did not dare to turn, lest the beaded portiers should scatter.
The aspirant did as she was commanded, but alas! she was heard to giggle.
This was a real offense, and it is a wonder she did not at once turn into a cyclops, or a goat, for the queen was really displeased.
“Take thyself to the rocks, and join the maids there who sing forever. See that thy song shall bring riches to my kingdom or——”
The queen paused, but was taken up by one of the feather duster girls. “Make it crabs,” she said. “Crabs are getting scarce, and the other fishermen wear smelly clothes. Our Lorelei always go for the crabbers, or lobster men.”
The absurd comparison brought forth applause. But the stage folks did not smile.
The next called was plainly little Zada Hillis, for even the long trailing sheet could not disguise her. She was nervous, and tripped as she stepped on the platform.
“Child of the sea,” spoke the queen, “we shall show you the wonders of our land-home. Tell me what lights the depths?”
Zada hesitated. Then she ventured. “The gleam of our mermaids’ eyes—the light of purity, and the glow cleanliness.”
This was applauded, for indeed it was not a bad speech for a frightened novice.