on a car drawn by
six horses, had made part of the show; since then, however, no Lord
Mayor had been thoughtful enough of little and big children's pleasure
to order out such delightful things, and so this year everybody must
go. To quote from the _Daily News:_

"Since the reign of Henry III., when, by that monarch's gracious
act the Lord Mayor of London was permitted to present himself
before the Barons of Exchequer at Westminster instead of submitting
the citizens' choice for the king's personal approval, there has
been no Lord Mayor's show at which so great a concourse of
spectators assembled."

We crowd into the cars and are soon in Cannon street. At the gates a
boy meets us with little books for sale, shouting, "Thirteen elephants
for a penny! the other boys'll only give you twelve, but I'll give you
thirteen. Sold again! Thirteen elephants for a penny!" This wonderful
book consists of a series of common gaudily colored pictures, supposed
to represent the procession, which has done service at the show
from time immemorial, but it is each year as welcome as ever to the
children who each have a penny to buy one. Through the streets we have
passing visions of pink silk stockings, canary-colored breeches, and
dark green coats and gold lace, also tri-colored rosettes as large as
saucers; and pass by shop-windows full of sweet, eager little faces,
in the place of hose, shirts, sewing-machines, etc.

At last we arrive at our destination in Cheapside, where, through the
kindness of a friend, a window on the first floor of a large building
is waiting for us. How impatient we are until we hear the band of the
Grenadier Guards, which heads the procession. After this band and that
of the Royal London Militia, come the Worshipful Company of Loriners,
preceded by jolly watermen in blue and white striped jerseys and white
trousers, bearing banners; more watermen follow to relieve them; the
beadle of the company with his staff of office; the clerk in his
chariot; the wardens, wearing silk cloaks trimmed with sables,
in their carriages, and amongst them Sir John Bennett, the great
watch-maker in Cheapside, a charming-looking old gentleman with rosy
cheeks and profuse gray curls; his face lights up with smiles as the
shouts of "Bravo, Bennett," show how popular he is.

Then comes a grand yellow coach, in which rides the Master of the
Company, attended by his chaplain. After the Loriners come the
Farrier