[_The constable prudently declines to attempt the impossible, and merely smiles with pitying superiority._ _Mrs. Lavender Salt (who has insisted on her husband escorting her)._ LAVENDER, what a frightful crush! I don't believe we've moved for the last twenty minutes, and I'm nearly dead with the heat! _Mr. L. S. (with irritating common sense)._ Well, MIMOSA, you don't suppose _I'm_ enjoying myself? After all, if you don't like the crush, the remedy's simple. You've only to step out of it into the grounds, you know--there is some air _there_! _Mrs. L. S._ What? and give up our places after going through so much? No, LAVENDER, it would be too absurd to have to go away without seeing the Royal Presents after all! _Mr. L. S._ But is it worth all this pushing and squeezing? Why, you can see much the same sort of thing any day in perfect comfort by simply walking down Bond Street! _Mrs. L. S._ You wouldn't say so if you had the least scrap of imagination! It isn't the things themselves one comes to see--it's the sentiment _attached_ to them! _Mr. L. S._ Oh, is _that_ it? Well, I can make out the upper part of a weighing machine over your shoulder, but I can't say I discover any particular sentiment attached to _that_. _Mrs. L. S. (impatiently)._ Oh, if you choose to sneer at _everything_, of course you can, but it's looking at things like these that makes us the loyal nation we are, LAVENDER! _Mr. L. S._ My dear MIMOSA, I give you my solemn word that if I remain opposite those Chippendale bookcases ten minutes longer I shall become a gibbering anarchist! Surely we can be loyal without such a painful resemblance to a box of dried figs. [Mrs. L. S. _shudders at these revolutionary sentiments_. _A New Comer (arriving with a friend, and craning curiously over the shoulders of the spectators_ in posse, _to their intense indignation_). 'Ere they are, JOE. I can see a lot o' silver inkstands. We'll get a view if we shove in 'ere. [_He attempts to edge through the double rank._ _The Purple-faced Old Gentleman._ I protest against your pushing in here, Sir. We're hot enough already without that. It's monstrously unfair! _The New Comer._ I s'pose I've got as much right to see the bloomin' Presents as what _you_ 'ave? _The P.-f. O. G._ You've no right to push in out of your turn, Sir. You must take your proper place down at the end of the _queue_ and wait, like everybody else. _The New Comer._ What, all the way down there, and 'ow long might I have to wait, now? _The P.-f. O. G. (with tremendous dignity)._ That I can't say, Sir. I can only tell you this--that I have been standing here myself for over three-quarters of an hour without advancing ten yards or seeing anything distinctly, and so have all these ladies and gentlemen.