The Policeman gave a knowing wink.
“You’ll need a rehearsal, won’t you?” said the Dude.
“No,” said King Stanislaus decidedly. “The worse we play the cleverer will be the deception.”
Then he and the four selected by him began to make preparations for their queer masquerade, and in these the whole band assisted. The coats and trousers had probably hung on their original wearers badly, but they fitted the Brownies who tried them on much worse.
The general effect would have brought deep shame to any conscientious tailor who had made them, but nimble fingers soon accomplished wonders with a tuck here and there, and the deft use of an occasional pin.
The ends of the trousers had to be rolled up a number of times, and the coats turned up on the inside. When they put on the big, hob-nailed shoes their long, tapering feet were lost in them, and the whole Brownie identity completely disappeared after they had donned the false noses and moustaches that the Policeman handed around.
No one familiar with the Brownie band would have recognized these particular five, and their disguise was pronounced admirable by one and all.
The breast of the coat that had fallen to the Sailor was all covered with medals, and it was the only one of the lot that was decorated in this manner. King Stanislaus thought that as the leader he was more properly fitted to wear this coat, but the Sailor seemed reluctant to give it up, so His Majesty good-naturedly did not press the matter.
He chose a cornet and the Sailor the remaining one. The Policeman took the saxophone, and the German the slide trombone. That left only the tuba for the Irishman, and it was so big that he could hardly manage it.