"There will be a daïs lifted up at the back, you know—that's a raised platform. But for the present you must pretend these chairs are the throne. You sit by 'fair Sabra,' Thomas, and then the trumpets sound and the Bear comes on."
"Who'll play the brass music?" asked Head, "because I've got a very clever friend at Sheepstor——"
"Leave all that to me. The music is arranged. Now, come on!"
"Shall you come on and play it like a four-footed thing, or get up on your hind-legs, Jack?" asked St. George.
"I be going to come in growling and yowling on all fours," declared Mr. Head grimly. "Then I be going to do a sort of a comic bear dance; then I be going to have a bit of fun eating a plum pudding; then I thought that me and Mr. Nathan might have a bit of comic work; and then I should get up on my hind-legs and go for St. George."
"You can't do all that," declared Dennis. "Not that I want to interfere with you, or anybody, Head; but if each one is going to work out his part and put such a lot into it, we shall never get done."
"The thing is to make 'em laugh, reverend Masterman," answered Jack with firmness. "If I just come on and just say my speech, and fight and die, there's nought in it; but if——"
"Go on, then—go on. We'll talk afterwards."
"Right. Now you try not to laugh, souls, and I wager I'll make you giggle like a lot of zanies," promised Jack.
Then he licked his hands, went down upon them, and scrambled along upon all fours.