Before Supper the proceedings are rather decorous than lively; the dancers in fancy dress forming a very decided minority, and appearing uncomfortably conscious of their costume.  A Masker got up as a highly realistic Hatstand, hobbles painfully towards a friend who is disguised as a huge Cannon.

The Hatstand (huskily, through a fox’s mask in the centre of his case, to the Cannon).  Just a trifle slow up to the present, eh?

The Cannon (shifting the carriage and wheels to a less uncomfortable position.) Yes, it don’t seem to me as lively as usual—­drags, don’t you know.

The Hatstand (heroically).  Well, we must wake ’em up, that’s all—­put a little go into the thing!

    [They endeavour to promote gaiety by crawling through the
    crowd, which regards them with compassionate wonder.

A Black Domino (to a Clown, who is tapping the barometer on the Hatstand’s back).  Here, mind how you damage the furniture, SAMMY, it may be here on the hire system.

    [The Hatstand executes a cumbrous caper by way of repartee,
    and stumbles on.

A Folly (to a highly respectable Bedouin in a burnous and gold spectacles).  Well, all I can say is, you don’t seem to me to behave much like an Arab!

The Bedouin (uneasily, as he waltzes with conscientious regularity).  Don’t I?  How ought I to behave then?

The Folly. I should have thought you’d jump about and howl, the way Bedouins do howl. You know!

The Bed. (dubiously).  Um—­well, you see, my dear, I—­I don’t feel up to that sort of thing—­before supper.

The Folly (losing all respect for him).  No—­nor yet after it.  I expect you’ve told some old four-wheel caravan to come and fetch you home early, and you’ll turn into your little tent at the usual time—­that’s the sort of wild Bedouin you are!  Don’t let me keep you. [She leaves him.

The Bed. (alone).  If she only knew the absolute horror I have of making myself conspicuous, she wouldn’t expect it!

Mephistopheles (to a Picador).  This was the only thing I could get to go in.  How do you think it suits me?

The Picador (with candour).  Well, I must say, old fellow, you do look a beast!

    [Mephisto appears wounded.

A Masker (with his face painted brown, and in a costume of coloured paper decorated with small boxes and packets, to a Blue Domino).  You see what I am, don’t you?  The Parcels Post!  Had a lot of trouble thinking it out.  Look at my face, for instance, I made that up, with string—­marks and all, to look like a brown-paper parcel.