“You’re right, old-timer. The lady ain’t, but she will be. What’s next? Petticoat?”
“Those are over here.”
“I leave it to you, partner. Something that makes a rustle and a swishing like a light rain on leaves. You know the kind?”
“Taffeta will do that.”
“Then taffeta it is. Now for the kicks. Something light. Slippers, eh?”
“Follow me.”
He set out an array of dancing-shoes.
“What size?” he asked.
“The right size.”
The proprietor made a gesture of despair.