She was wearing a silver-embroidered velvet cap, which she courteously doffed on beholding us, and I noticed that her hair, but an inch or two long, curled about her head and temples in the most delightfully picturesque fashion imaginable.
She was surprised to see us, that was quite apparent, but she evidently mistook our identity for awhile. “What strange children!” she exclaimed, in a rich, sonorous voice, which was bewitchingly musical. “Why are you here, and for what particular purpose are you masquerading in this extraordinary fashion?”
“Yes, it is extraordinary, isn’t it?” burst forth the masher, “but you are slightly mistaken about us. I can’t answer for this lady, and I really don’t know what the deuce she is doing here, but I am the Honourable Augustus Fitz-Musicus. I daresay you have heard of me. My ancestor, you know, was King George the Fourth. He fell in love with a very beautiful lady, who, until the first gentleman in Europe favoured her with his attentions, was an opera singer. She subsequently became the mother of a family, who were all provided for by their delighted father, the king. The eldest son was created Duke of Fitz-Musicus, and he and his family were endowed with a perpetual pension for ‘distinguished services rendered to the State, you know.’”
“Then you are not a little boy?” queried the giantess. “But of course you must be. Come here, my little dear, and tell me who taught you to say those funny things, and who pasted that queer little moustache on your face.”
As she spoke she actually stooped, kissed the Honourable Augustus Fitz-Musicus on the forehead, and patted him playfully on the cheek with one shapely finger. This was, however, an indignity not to be borne patiently, and the recipient of these well-meant attentions indignantly sprang on one side, his face scarlet, and his voice tremulous with humiliated wrath.
“How dare you?” he gasped. “How dare you insult me so? You must know that I am not a child. Your own hugeness need not prevent you from seeing that I am a man.”
“A man! never! O, this is too splendid a joke to enjoy by myself.” Saying this, and laughing until the tears came into her eyes, the goddess raised her voice a little, and called to some companions who were evidently close at hand, “Myra! Hilda! Agnes! oh, do come quickly. I have found two such curious creatures.”
In response to this summons three more girls of gigantic stature came from the further end of the garden, and completed our discomfiture by joining in the laugh against us.
“What funny little things! Wherever did you find them, Dora?” queried one of the new comers, whereat Dora composed her risible faculties as well as she was able, and explained that she had just found us where we were, and that one of us claimed to be a man.
Myra and Agnes were quite as amused at this as Dora had been, but Hilda took the situation somewhat more seriously. She had noted how furious the Honourable Augustus Fitz-Musicus looked, and observed my vain attempt to assume a dignified demeanour in the presence of such a formidable array of playful goddesses, who now all plied us with questions together.