er ears of May Fair and Belgravia would have been crushed and
cracked and riven asunder; that female voices would have shrieked,
and the intensity of fashionable female agony would have displayed
itself in all its best recognised forms. But the crash of brass was
borne by them as though they had been rough schoolboys delighting
in a din. The duchess gave one jump, and then remained quiet and
undismayed. If Lady Hartletop heard it, she did not betray the
hearing. Lady Glencora for a moment put her hands to her ears as
she laughed, but she did it as though the prettiness of the motion
were its only one cause. The fine nerves of Mrs Conway Sparkes, the
poetess, bore it all without flinching; and Mrs Chaucer Munro with
her bevy rushed forward so that they might lose nothing of what was
coming.

"What are they going to do?" said Margaret to her cousin, in alarm.

"It's the play part of the thing. Have you not seen the bills?" Then
Margaret looked at a great placard which was exhibited near to her,
which, though by no means intelligible to her, gave her to understand
that there was a show in progress. The wit of the thing seemed
to consist chiefly in the wonderful names chosen. The King of
the Cannibal Islands was to appear on a white charger. King
Chrononhotonthologos was to be led in chains by Tom Thumb. Achilles
would drag Hector thrice round the walls of Troy; and Queen Godiva
would ride through Coventry, accompanied by Lord Burghley and the
ambassador from Japan. It was also signified that in some back part
of the premises a theatrical entertainment would be carried on
throughout the afternoon, the King of the Cannibal Islands, with his
royal brother and sister Chrononhotonthologos and Godiva, taking
principal parts; but as nobody seemed to go to the theatre the
performers spent their time chiefly in making processions through and
amidst the stalls, when, as the day waxed hot, and the work became
heavy, they seemed to be taken much in dudgeon by the various bevies
with whose business they interfered materially.

On this, their opening march, they rushed into the bazaar with great
energy, and though they bore no resemblance to the characters named
in the playbill, and though there was among them neither a Godiva,
a Hector, a Tom Thumb, or a Japanese, nevertheless, as they were
dressed in paint and armour after the manner of the late Mr
Richardson's heroes, and as most of the ladies had probably been
without previous o