The girls were so ridiculously dressed, too, that they were in rags before supper. How could the boys help treading on their trains? And yet when their trains were trodden on, they often showed temper again, and looked as black, they did! However, they all seemed to be pleased when Mrs. Alicumpaine said, ‘Supper is ready, children!’ And they went crowding and pushing in, as if they had had dry bread for dinner. ‘How are the children getting on?’ said Mr. Orange to Mrs. Orange, when Mrs. Orange came to look after baby. Mrs. Orange had left baby on a shelf near Mr. Orange while he played at beggar-my-neighbour, and had asked him to keep his eye upon her now and then. ‘Most charmingly, my dear!’ said Mrs. Orange. ‘So droll to see their little flirtations and jealousies! Do come and look!’ ‘Much obliged to you, my dear,’ said Mr. Orange; ‘but I don’t care about children myself.’ So Mrs. Orange, having seen that baby was safe, went back without Mr. Orange to the room where the children were having supper. ‘What are they doing now?’ said Mrs. Orange to Mrs. Alicumpaine. ‘They are making speeches, and playing at parliament,’ said Mrs. Alicumpaine to Mrs. Orange. On hearing this, Mrs. Orange set off once more back again to Mr. Orange, and said, ‘James dear, do come. The children are playing at parliament.’ ‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Mr. Orange, ‘but I don’t care about parliament myself.’ So Mrs. Orange went once again without Mr. Orange to the room where the children were having supper, to see them playing at parliament. And she found some of the boys crying, ‘Hear, hear, hear!’ while other boys cried ‘No, no!’ and others, ‘Question!’ ‘Spoke!’ and all sorts of nonsense that ever you heard. Then one of those tiresome fat boys who had stopped the doorway told them he was on his legs (as if they couldn’t see that he wasn’t on his head, or on his anything else) to explain, and that, with the permission of his honourable friend, if he would allow him to call him so (another tiresome boy bowed), he would proceed to explain. Then he went on for a long time in a sing-song (whatever he meant), did this troublesome fat boy, about that he held in his hand a glass; and about that he had come down to that house that night to discharge what he would call a public duty; and about that, on the present occasion, he would lay his hand (his other hand) upon his heart, and would tell honourable gentlemen that he was about to open the door to general approval. Then he opened the door by saying, ‘To our hostess!’ and everybody else said ‘To our hostess!’ and then there were cheers. Then another tiresome boy started up in sing-song, and then half a dozen noisy and nonsensical boys at once. But at last Mrs. Alicumpaine said, ‘I cannot have this din. Now, children, you have played at parliament very nicely; but parliament gets tiresome after a little while, and it’s time you left off, for you will soon be fetched.’