. There was the Emperor with bass
voice and mustaches trailing to the ground to be continually trodden on
by humorists of every size and sort.

It would be impossible to relate every scene. It was like existence in a
precious stone, so much sparkle and color was everywhere. The cave was
wonderful. The journey to the Enchanted Palace through Cloudland was
amazing. Then there were gilded tables, heaped with gigantic fruits,
that rose from the very ground itself. There was the devilishly cunning
Abanazar. There were songs and dances and tinsel and movement and
jingles and processions and laughter and gongs and lanterns and painted
umbrellas and magic doors and an exhaustingly funny bathing scene with
real water. There was the active and slippery Genius of the Lamp, the
lithe and agile Genius of the Ring, who ran right round the ledge of the
circle and slid down a golden pillar back on to the stage amid thunders
of applause.

To Jenny, perhaps the most real excitement of all was the appearance of
her darling Lilli, first in gold and blue, and then in white, and then
in black, and finally in a dress that must have been stolen from the
very heart of a rainbow, such scintillating streams of color flickered
and gleamed and radiated from its silken folds.

How gloriously golden looked her hair, how splendidly crimson her lips,
how nobly brilliant were her eyes. And how she danced, first on one leg,
then on the other; then upside down and inside out, and over one girl
and under another. How the people clapped her and how pleased she
looked, and how Jenny waved to her till Alfie and Edie simultaneously
suppressed such an uncontrolled and conspicuous display of feelings.
Then there was the transformation scene, which actually surpassed all
that had gone before, with its bouquets of giant roses turning into
fairies, with its clouds and lace and golden rocks and jewels and silver
trees and view of magic oceans and snowy mountains and gaudy birds.

Suddenly crimson lights flared. There was a jovial shout from somewhere,
and "Here we are again!" cried Joey, as round and round to "Ring a ring
o' roses" galloped Clown and Pantaloon and Harlequin and Columbine.
Jenny looked shyly up into Mr. Vergoe's face and could just see tears
glittering in his eyes.

Down came the front cloth of the harlequinade with shops and mischievous
boys and everlastingly mocked policemen and absent-minded nursemaids and
swaggering soldiers. Inspiring were