The fact was that Verity, finding it dull waiting in the passage, had run upstairs to make some additions to her costume, and had miscalculated the length, or rather shortness, of the act.

It is difficult for the most accomplished actor to go on looking embarrassed for any length of time, and as Fil's eloquence in the scolding line suddenly failed her, there was an awful pause while the peasant husband, with wonderful agility considering his rheumatism, hopped to the door and called agitatedly for the missing performer.

The courtier flew downstairs like a whirlwind, tripped into the room, and fell upon his red-stockinged knees to do homage to his sovereign, who rose majestically and extended a hand of pardon to the now grovelling peasant.
The audience, particularly that portion seated in the gallery, clapped and cheered to such an extent that one of the trestles, which had been carelessly fixed, collapsed, and sent a whole row of girls sliding on to the floor, whence they were rescued speechless with laughter, but uninjured.

They came crowding round the performers to admire the costumes.
"They're topping!" "How _did_ you think of them ?" "I like King Alfred's legs!" "Ingred, you look about a hundred!" "Fil _could_ scold!" "Verity, what was a courtier doing rambling about a forest in a blue dressing-gown?
It would get torn on the bushes!" "I know.

We told her so, but she _would_ wear it!" declared Ingred.