The performance proceeded, and the _intermezzi_ had been briskly taken; the harp had spent its last liquid notes; "Caller Herrin'" had been delightfully sung, and four tiny girls (combined height some twelve feet) had charmed us with the pretty innocence of their flower carol. Also a dramatic version of "The Holly Tree Inn" had been played in a fashion that DICKENS would not have disapproved. Now there was a murmur of expectation among the audience; soon the crystal-clear strains of "He shall feed His flock" sounded through the room, and as they lingered and died away the curtain rose for the masque, "The Holy Night." At the back of the stage was a lowly shed, its closed door guarded by two angelic figures clothed in pure white draperies and with wings that sparkled with a silver sheen. High above, to the left of the shed, a third angel soared, and these three watched and waited, intent and motionless, their hands crossed over their breasts. In front of them lay three shepherds, and amongst them frisked a white and woolly little lamb (Douglas, the Vicar's son), and further to the left we recognised little Kit Price as a raven in sleek black satin, and our John only partially disguised as a highly-coloured and effective cock, strutting and flapping and pecking and scraping to his heart's content, and admitted to the cast in spite of the stage directions, which declare that "if any little boy have very fat legs he shall not play the part of the cock." He made such amends as were possible by the extreme vividness and energy of the beak with which he kept the raven in order. At the back of the scene there were vague indications of the presence of an ox and an ass. It had been intended to represent them in a lifelike fashion by two heads; but these, though ordered, had failed to arrive, being cut off on their way by floods. Now the shepherds burst into song, and when that was over the cock flapped his wings and crew, and the raven cawed, and the lamb ba-a-ed, and the uncompleted ox and ass made noises after their kind, and there was a lively bustle everywhere, except where the angels watched and waited with their hands crossed and their shining wings at rest. The shepherds began to gossip as shepherds, I suppose, have gossiped ever since the care of sheep began. One told how his grandam said, on the authority of a wise woman, that on the night Messias is born all the beasts shall speak. Another doubted whether this would hap in our time. Nothing, he thought, would hap save these heavy taxings; but the other reminded him that it had been a good year for sheep. But suddenly, as the shepherds chatted, the three angels, invisible to the shepherds, raised each a warning hand and bent forward and whispered, "Hush-sh!" and an awe-struck silence fell upon the scene. Something great and wonderful had happened, but what was it, and how would it be revealed?