It was a
dance such as you have never seen; it made the children feel almost
sure that the cook was right, and that they were all in a dream.
Small, strange-shaped drums were beaten, odd-sounding songs were
sung, and the dance got faster and faster and odder and odder, till
at last all the dancers fell on the sand tired out.
The new queen, with her white crown-cap all on one side, clapped
wildly.
'Brayvo!' she cried, 'brayvo! It's better than the Albert Edward
Music-hall in the Kentish Town Road. Go it again!'
But the Phoenix would not translate this request into the
copper-coloured language; and when the savages had recovered their
breath, they implored their queen to leave her white escort and
come with them to their huts.
'The finest shall be yours, O queen,' said they.
'Well--so long!' said the cook, getting heavily on to her feet,
when the Phoenix had translated this request. 'No more kitchens
and attics for me, thank you. I'm off to my royal palace, I am;
and I only wish this here dream would keep on for ever and ever.'
She picked up the ends of the garlands that trailed round her feet,
and the children had one last glimpse of her striped stockings and
worn elastic-side boots before she disappeared into the shadow of
the forest, surrounded by her dusky retainers, singing songs of
rejoicing as they went.
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