At five o’clock there was a grand Christmas dinner. The ladies wore
their gayest gowns, the officers were in full uniform, and the other
gentlemen present were in all the splendor of velvet coats and breeches
and ruffled shirts. There was much laughter and many toasts, and at the
end of the dinner Uncle Manuel, gorgeous in his scarlet silk breeches,
entered, bearing aloft, on a huge platter, a plum-pudding blazing with
blue flames, and with sprigs of mistletoe stuck in it. Afterwards, in
the hall, came off the ceremony of placing the branch of mistletoe on
the lantern that hung from the ceiling. Then there was great jollity
and a merry scramble, for, according to the hearty custom of the time,
any lady caught under the mistletoe could be kissed by any gentleman
who caught her. George and William Fairfax secretly longed to act
the mannish part and join in the sport, but both felt quite overcome
with bashfulness at the idea, and only watched the gay doings from
afar. Not so Betty, who quite assumed the young lady, and who not only
treated William Fairfax as if he had been an infant, but gave herself
lofty airs towards George, whom she had heretofore regarded with the
greatest respect. Then, soon after dark, the coaches of the neighboring
gentry drove up with the guests. In the hall the negro fiddlers were
in great force, and sawed the air from eight o’clock in the evening
until daylight next morning. Besides the minuet and rigadoon there
were jigs and reels, and at last everybody, young and old, danced Sir
Roger de Coverley, while the candles sputtered in their sockets and
the chickens crowed outside. George danced all night with the greatest
enjoyment, not finding any difficulty in obtaining partners, all of the
ladies being willing to dance with so handsome a stripling. Among the
guests who came from a distance was a remarkably pretty young girl of
about George’s age, Miss Martha Dandridge. With her George danced Sir
Roger de Coverley, going down the middle swinging partners, and making
the grand march to the music of the crashing fiddles and dancing feet.
When at last it was over, and in the gray dawn the coaches and chaises
rattled off, and the ball was over, George thought it was the finest
ball he had ever seen in his life.
[Illustration: “SHE WAS THE STATELIEST BEAUTY OF A SHIP HE HAD EVER
SEEN”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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