[Illustration]

About the middle of the long table there was a dais raised above the level on which the other chairs and table stood.  It was covered by a canopy of yellow silk, and under this was a table more richly laid out than the big one, and two seats of pure gold.  To this Mary led Peter, and then said emphatically—­“These are our seats.”

Up they climbed, and then Mary dropped Peter’s arm and sat down on one of the seats, and he seated himself beside her on the other.

From his present elevation Peter was well able to observe the Parsnip-men as they passed by in procession, and took their places on the chairs.

When all were seated the music recommenced.  Then out of a side door came about fifty mannikins carrying large cakes on silver dishes, which they set down on the long table, and having cut them up handed them round to the guests.  Others poured red or golden wine from the vases into the goblets.  Everybody ate and drank, and chatted and laughed between-whiles.

Among the golden dishes on the golden table where Peter and Mary sat, was one which held a cake which had a particularly inviting smell.  Mary cut a piece off and put it on to Peter’s golden plate.  Then, from a beautiful golden goblet, she poured ruby-coloured wine into their crystal glasses.

Peter ate and drank with great relish, and soon disposed of the cake and wine.

[Illustration]

“I should like to have some of that beautiful fruit, too, if I may,” said he.  And as he spoke Mary filled his plate with grapes, apples, and pears.

“Eat away, Peter!” said she, laughing till her white teeth shone through her lips.  “Don’t be afraid of emptying the dish.  There is plenty more fruit if we want it.”

“I should like to take some home to Mamma,” said Peter, biting into an apple.  “May I, Mary?”

Mary nodded kindly, and handed him a golden dish full of sweetmeats, saying, “Put as many of these into your pocket as you like.”  And he filled his pockets accordingly.

Peter felt as happy as a king.  His head was quite turned.  He shouted aloud for joy, and swung his legs backwards and forwards as he sat on his golden chair.

“But I say, Mary,” said he, laughing, “we shall go on playing together the same as ever, sha’n’t we?  I shall bring my leaden soldiers, and you’ll bring your dolls again, won’t you?”

But at this moment Mary seized his arm, and whispered in a frightened voice—­“Hush, Peter, hush!  Don’t you hear?”

The music had suddenly ceased, and with it all the talking and laughing at the long table, and in the silence the sound of the church clock could be distinctly heard. It struck one.

At one stroke—­the lights went out, a blast of wind blew through the banqueting-room, and then all was as still as death.

* * * * *

LEFT ALONE IN THE DARK—­MOTHER—­THE PARSNIP-MAN BY DAYLIGHT—­THREE POUNDS.