.

.
So for an hour Saxon followed Roman, Dane followed Saxon, Norman followed both.

Alfred, Canute, William--all controlled (as Brother Copas cynically remarked to Brother Warboise, watching through the palings from the allotted patch of sward which served them for green-room) by one small Jew, perspiring on the roof and bawling orders here, there, everywhere, through a gigantic megaphone; bawling them in a _lingua franca_ to which these mighty puppets moved obediently, weaving English history as upon a tapestry swiftly, continuously unrolled.

"Which things," quoted Copas mischievously, "are an allegory, Philip." To the waiting performers it seemed incredible that to the audience, packed by thousands in the Grand Stand, this scolding strident voice immediately above their heads should be inaudible.

Yet it was.
All those eyes beheld, all those ears heard, was the puppets as they postured and declaimed.