Frank was so angry, it was very difficult to keep him on his perch for the last scene of all.  He submitted, however, rather than spoil the grand finale, hoping that its beauty would efface that ill-timed pleasantry from the public mind.  So, when the agreeable clamor of hands and voices called for a repetition, the Minute Man reappeared, grimmer than before.  But not alone, for grouped all about his pedestal were Washington and his generals, the matrons and maids, with a background of troops shouldering arms, Grif and Joe doing such rash things with their muskets, that more than one hero received a poke in his august back.  Before the full richness of this picture had been taken in, Ed gave a rap, and all burst out with “Hail Columbia,” in such an inspiring style that it was impossible for the audience to refrain from joining, which they did, all standing and all singing with a heartiness that made the walls ring.  The fife shrilled, the horn blew sweet and clear, the fiddle was nearly drowned by the energetic boom of the drum, and out into the starry night, through open windows, rolled the song that stirs the coldest heart with patriotic warmth and tunes every voice to music.

“‘America!’ We must have ‘America!’ Pipe up, Ed, this is too good to end without one song more,” cried Mr. Burton, who had been singing like a trumpet; and, hardly waiting to get their breath, off they all went again with the national hymn, singing as they never had sung it before, for somehow the little scenes they had just acted or beheld seemed to show how much this dear America of ours had cost in more than one revolution, how full of courage, energy, and virtue it was in spite of all its faults, and what a privilege, as well as duty, it was for each to do his part toward its safety and its honor in the present, as did those brave men and women in the past.

So the “Scenes from the Life of Washington” were a great success, and, when the songs were over, people were glad of a brief recess while they had raptures, and refreshed themselves with lemonade.

The girls had kept the secret of who the “Princess” was to be, and, when the curtain rose, a hum of surprise and pleasure greeted the pretty group.  Jill lay asleep in all her splendor, the bonny “Prince” just lifting the veil to wake her with a kiss, and all about them the court in its nap of a hundred years.  The “King” and “Queen” dozing comfortably on the throne; the maids of honor, like a garland of nodding flowers, about the couch; the little page, unconscious of the blow about to fall, and the fool dreaming, with his mouth wide open.

It was so pretty, people did not tire of looking, till Jack’s lame leg began to tremble, and he whispered:  “Drop her or I shall pitch.”  Down went the curtain; but it rose in a moment, and there was the court after the awakening:  the “King” and “Queen” looking about them with sleepy dignity, the maids in various attitudes of surprise, the fool grinning from ear to ear, and the “Princess” holding out her hand to the “Prince,” as if glad to welcome the right lover when he came at last.