VI. The State Dinner.

The dinner hour drew near--yet strangely enough, the thought brought but
slight discomfort to Tom, and hardly any terror. The morning's
experiences had wonderfully built up his confidence; the poor little
ash-cat was already more wonted to his strange garret, after four days'
habit, than a mature person could have become in a full month. A child's
facility in accommodating itself to circumstances was never more
strikingly illustrated.

Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting-room and have a
glance at matters there whilst Tom is being made ready for the imposing
occasion. It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars and pilasters,
and pictured walls and ceilings. At the door stand tall guards, as rigid
as statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes, and bearing
halberds. In a high gallery which runs all around the place is a band of
musicians and a packed company of citizens of both sexes, in brilliant
attire. In the centre of the room, upon a raised platform, is Tom's
table. Now let the ancient chronicler speak:

"A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him another
bearing a tablecloth, which, after they have both kneeled three times
with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and after kneeling
again they both retire; then come two others, one with the rod again, the
other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when they have kneeled as
the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they too
retire with the same ceremonies performed by the first; at last come two
nobles, richly clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife, who, after
prostrating themselves three times in the most graceful manner, approach
and rub the table with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the King
had been present." {6}

So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down the echoing corridors we
hear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, "Place for the King! Way for
the King's most excellent majesty!" These sounds are momently repeated
--they grow nearer and nearer--and presently, almost in our faces, the
martial note peals and the cry rings out, "Way for the King!" At this
instant the shining pageant appears, and files in at the door, with a
measured march. Let the chronicler speak again:--

"First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly
dressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two, one of
which carries