Though the ceremony was not to be performed till eve, still the fairies were busy with their preparations at sun-up, and the palace fairly hummed with their activities.
Long banquet-tables had been arranged in the throne-room, and on snowy napery were dishes, cups, and saucers fashioned with quaint exquisiteness from flowers, and there were lily chalices of sparkling dew with which to pledge the health of the happy bride and groom.
In the kitchen a host of willing workers were being directed by little Dame Drusilda, and their conscientious efforts showed in ice cream with fruits of all flavors, charlotte russe, mince pies, plum puddings, all kinds of berry tarts, old-fashioned strawberry short-cake, peach cobblers, and apple dumplings. For the menu of the fairies was composed almost entirely of the most delicious desserts imaginable, and they ate what they wished, and as much as they liked, without ever getting the indigestion.
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So the day wore on toward dusk, and, though to all the others, each hour seemed a minute, and each minute a second, Florimel and Titania in their impatience thought that it would never end, the very sun seemed to stand still, as upon Gibeon.
He had left the Brownies to their own devices to be with her, and while they talked of their union now so close at hand both were arrayed in their fine wedding-garb.
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"Are you happy, Florimel?" she asked him, for the thousandth time.
"Happier than words can say," was his fervent response.
"And you're sure you'll never regret it?"
"Yes, positive, Titania. I wonder what's keeping King Stanislaus and the band. They ought to be here by this time."
"Oh, Florimel, my happiness would be complete were it not for the thought of Dragonfel." At the mention of the wicked enchanter's name he gave an involuntary start.
"We mustn't borrow trouble on his account," he said, trying to speak lightly. "He's across the sea where he can't hurt us. Let us think instead of our approaching happiness."
Then fairies came skipping and running from the palace, clapping their hands in sheer delight, cheering, and waving tiny handkerchiefs at a great rate. And windows gay with flags and bunting filled with flushed, eager, excited faces all looking out, while the Cupids were lifted up in arms so they could better see.
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"The Brownies must be coming!" cried Florimel to Titania. "Let us go up on the palace-steps where we can get a view of them."
He gallantly offered her his arm, and escorted her to a position with the rest, from which they could obtain a glimpse of the road as it wound curving away, with the blue, dimpling sea beyond.
Down the road came the joyous band, with hearts attuned to merry-making, and never was a jollier procession.
Beasts and birds alike had freely offered their services toward making this grand entree as triumphantly imposing as possible, and in the long frisking, frolicking, cavorting line of march were lions, tigers, elephants, camels, zebras, ostriches, emus, cassowaries, and many other creatures of field, forest, and jungle, four-footed and two, whose backs bore willingly the burden of the gay, laughing sprites.
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But Florimel could not see King Stanislaus among them, and was much puzzled thereat. When later they were gathered together, within the garden-walls, and the beasts and birds had gone away, after eating all the charlotte russe they could, he inquired the cause of His Majesty's absence.
"He'll be here later," the Student explained. "He had some pressing engagement with the Policeman, and they went away together."
Suddenly there came a banging on the portcullis so loud that it seemed to be made with big wooden mallets. Brownies and fairies looked at each other in consternation and surprise, while many a tiny heart began a vigorous thumping.
"What's that?" cried Queen Titania.
"There are strangers outside the portcullis, Your Majesty," said the fairy guard, as she squinted with one eye through the peek-hole.
The banging continued with greater insistence, and, advancing close to the portcullis, Prince Florimel shouted:
"Who are you, and what do you want?"
"We are friends who have come to the wedding," said a mild, gentle voice from outside, "who have come to the wedding."
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed the Dude, in great disgust. "Whoever gave them an invitation?"
"We have brought you some fine presents," the voice hastened to add.
Florimel seemed undecided.
"Shall we admit them?" he asked the rest.
"Avast, messmate!" growled the Sailor. "You'd better have a look at the presents first!"
"There's nothing to fear," said Titania sweetly. "Bid the strangers welcome."
The portcullis was straightway raised, and in trooped a queer, motley crowd. They were attended by four grinning imps in red who varied their walk with somersaulting antics, and the arms of all but the leader were full of presents.
These evidently had been selected with much care and thought for the wedding, and the same taste and judgment were shown that can be found in nearly all weddings.
One of them had a gigantic pair of scissors which would have taken as many as a half-dozen Brownies or fairies to cut with. Another held a cradle big enough to hold the offspring of a giant.
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A third in a cage carried a hen which was alleged to lay three strictly guaranteed fresh eggs a day. From each hand of a fourth dangled an immense round clock, and the faces of them were lettered: FALSE ALARM.
MADE IN DEMONLAND. A fifth had a pair of abnormal candle-snuffers.
Others had gifts equally absurd and useless.
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At the instigation of the leader all grouped themselves in a semi-circle humbly before the bride and groom to-be, and Florimel, who was still somewhat suspicious, asked:
"What do you want?"
"We are friends," said the leader, in his gentle voice, "most anxious to pay homage to you."
"If you are friends," said Florimel, "we shall be glad to have you join in our festivities. Do you dance?"
All shook their heads in unison.
"Don't you tango or do the fox-trot?"
Again they shook their heads.
"Or sing?"