But it was too much.

I was glad to go and rest.
The Flower Dance at the ball, where human flowers formed intricate figures and dances for our edification and delight, was so attractive that my words are of no avail.

Picture twenty-eight young ladies, each dressed to represent a flower--hollyhock, pansy, moss, rose, morning-glory, eucalyptus blossom, pink clover, yellow marguerite, Cherokee rose, pink carnation, forget-me-not, buttercup, pink-and-white fuchsia, lily of the valley, wine-colored peony, white iris, daffodil, and so on.

They advance with slowly swaying motion, with wreaths uplifted until they reach the stage, where sit the guests of honor.
There they bow low, then lay the garlands at their feet, and retire, forming ingeniously pretty groups and figures, while bees and butterflies flit in and out.

See the bees pursuing the little pink rosebuds until at last they join hands and dance gaily away, only to be enthusiastically recalled.
Do you ladies want to understand a little in detail about the dresses?
Of course you do.