It was lifted down--as a matter of fact I think two cooks might have managed it--and the guests took turns at the handle with such goodwill that unfortunately we rather overdid it, and the iced custard became of such a hard rock-like consistency that we had to thaw it a little before it was fit to eat. But it was pronounced “quite delicious,” and we were sorry we had not made a larger quantity. _Pfingsten_, as Whitsuntide is called in Germany, is celebrated by many pleasant customs. It is the season when all the village people place big boughs of young larch on each side of the doorway to welcome the returning spring. Every street breaks out into a sudden growth of unaccustomed greenery, and in the churches young larch trees cut from the hill-side are placed on each side of the altar. In the New Palace the garrison celebrated Whit Monday by the _Schrippen-Fest_, a dinner instituted by Frederick the Great for their benefit. All the previous week the soldiers might have been seen busily at work in their spare time making the long green garlands of pine and fir twigs with which every good German loves to give outward expression of his inward joy. They erected round the arcade of the “Communs” plank tables and benches covered with a wooden roof upheld by posts round which the garlands were entwined. Early on the morning of Whit Monday big copper cauldrons containing beef, prunes and rice, were set boiling out of doors. Originally the feast had begun in a small way by the distribution to the soldiers of _Schrippen_, or small loaves of white bread, but in the course of years it had developed into a substantial meal. To the _Schrippen-Fest_ the whole Diplomatic Corps and many officers and ladies are invited, and there is a gay assemblage of people at the military service for the garrison, which takes place out of doors, under the trees at one end of the palace. After it is finished the Emperor and Empress, with their family and guests, go to partake of the feast with the soldiers. They do not as a rule sit down, but eat their meat and prunes standing. All the ladies in their trained silk dresses, the ambassadors, generals, and adjutants in their uniforms, are served with a plateful of boiled beef, and eat it wherever they can find elbow-room. When Their Majesties have finished, they walk, followed by the assembled company, down between the tables, inspecting the soldiers and asking them questions. “Where do you come from? How long have you served? Have you had a good dinner?” seem to be the stock questions, varied by inquiries as to name, father’s business, and any other queries that seem to fit the occasion. Here it may be remarked that the Emperor and his family possess in an unusual degree what Kipling calls the “common touch.” They know how to talk to poor men, working men, without any shadow of that patronizing affability often mistakenly employed by one class when trying to be nice to another which is not on the same social plane.