The excitement was immense when it was announced that mamma had a
tableau to represent with the help of Dolores, who was really warming a
little to the interest of the thing, and did not at all dislike being
dressed up with one of the boy's caps with three ostrich feathers, to
accompany her aunt in hood and cloak, and be challenged by Hal, who
had, together with the bow and papa's old regimental sword, been
borrowed to personate the robber of Hexham. Everybody screamed with
ecstasy except Fergus, who thought it very hard that he should not have
been Prince Edward instead of a stupid girl.
So, to content all parties, mama undertook to bring in as many as
possible, and a series from the life of Elizabeth Woodville was
accordingly arranged.
She stood under the oak, represented by the hall chandelier, with
Fergus and Primrose as her infant sons, and fascinated King Edward on
the rocking-horse, which was much too vivant, for it reared as
perpendicularly as it could, and then nearly descended on its nose, to
mark the rider's feelings.
Then, with her hair let down, which was stipulated for, though, as she
observed, nothing would make it the right colour, she sat desolate on
the hearth, surrounded by as many daughters as could be spared from
being spectators, as her youngest son was born off from her maternal
arms by a being as like a cardinal as a Galway cloak, disposed tippet
fashion, could make him.
She could not be spared to put up her hair again before she had to
forget her maternal feelings and be mere audience, while her two sons
were smothered by Mysie and Dolores, converted into murderers one and
two by slouched hats.
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