In the kitchen a host of willing workers were being directed by little Dame Drusilda, and their conscientious efforts showed in ice cream with fruits of all flavors, charlotte russe, mince pies, plum puddings, all kinds of berry tarts, old-fashioned strawberry short-cake, peach cobblers, and apple dumplings. For the menu of the fairies was composed almost entirely of the most delicious desserts imaginable, and they ate what they wished, and as much as they liked, without ever getting the indigestion.
So the day wore on toward dusk, and, though to all the others, each hour seemed a minute, and each minute a second, Florimel and Titania in their impatience thought that it would never end, the very sun seemed to stand still, as upon Gibeon.
He had left the Brownies to their own devices to be with her, and while they talked of their union now so close at hand both were arrayed in their fine wedding-garb.
“Are you happy, Florimel?” she asked him, for the thousandth time.
“Happier than words can say,” was his fervent response.
“And you’re sure you’ll never regret it?”
“Yes, positive, Titania. I wonder what’s keeping King Stanislaus and the band. They ought to be here by this time.”
“Oh, Florimel, my happiness would be complete were it not for the thought of Dragonfel.” At the mention of the wicked enchanter’s name he gave an involuntary start.
“We mustn’t borrow trouble on his account,” he said, trying to speak lightly. “He’s across the sea where he can’t hurt us. Let us think instead of our approaching happiness.”