Allegorical Cars pass.
Crowd. Don't they look chilly up there! 'Old on to your globe, Sir! Don't ketch cold in them tights, Miss! They've run up agin somethink, that lot 'ave. See where it's all bent in—eh?
Lord Mayor's Coach passes.
Crowd. 'Ooray! That's 'im with the muff on. No, it ain't, yer soft 'ed! It's 'im in the feathered 'at a-layin' back. Whoy don't yer let 'im set on yer lap, Guv'nor? &c., &c.
A block. Lady Mayoress's Coach stopping.
Crowd. There's dresses! They must ha' cost a tidy penny!
Agitator. Wrung out of the pockets of the poor working-man! I'd dress 'em, I would! Why should sech as you and me keep the likes o' them in laziness? If we 'ad our rights, it's us as 'ud be riding in their places!
Artisan (after a glance at him). Dunno as the Show'd be much the prettier to look at for that, mate.
After the Procession.
Practical Pleasure-seeker (who has been pushed into a back row, and seen nothing but the banners, to Duggie and Weetie, miraculously recovered). Thank Heaven, they're found! Children, let this be a lesson to you in future never to——What? Seen the Show beautifully, have you? (Boiling over.) Oh, very well—wait till I get you home!