"You've done nothing," said Elizabeth--"absolutely nothing." "I say, don't say that," I began nervously; "I've done an awful lot, really. I've practically got the costume. I'm going as Harold the Boy Earl, or Jessica's Last---- Hallo, there's my bus; I've got a cold, I mustn't keep it waiting. Good-bye." And I fled. * * * * * * * "I am going," I said, "as Julius Cæsar. He was practically bald. Think how cool that will be." "Do you mean to say," cried Elizabeth, "that you have altered again?" "Don't be rough with me or I shall cry. I've got an awful cold." "Then you've no business to go as Julius Cæsar." "I say, now you're trying to unsettle me. And I was going to-morrow to order the clothes." "What! You haven't----" "I was really going this afternoon, only--only it's early closing day. Besides, I wanted to see if my cold would get better. Because if it didn't---- Look here, I'll be frank with you. I am going as Charlemagne." "Oh!" "Charlemagne in half-mourning, because Pepin the Short had just died. Something quiet in grey, with a stripe, I thought. Only half-mourning because he only got half the throne. By-the-way I suppose all these people wore pumps and white kid gloves all right? Yes, I thought so. I wonder if Charlemagne really had black hair. Anyhow, they can't prove he didn't, seeing when he lived. He flourished about 770, you know. As a matter of fact 770 wasn't actually his most flourishing year, because the Radicals were in power then, and land went down so. Now 771--yes. Or else as Raymond Blathwayt." "Anyhow," I added indignantly a minute later, "I swear I'm going somehow." * * * * * * * "Hallo," I said cheerfully, as I ran into her Majesty in Piccadilly, "I've just been ordering--that is to say, I've been going----I mean I'm just going to---- Let's see, it's next week, isn't it?" For a moment Elizabeth was speechless--not at all my idea of the character. "Now then," she said at last, "I am going to take you in hand. Will you trust yourself entirely to me?" "To the death, your Majesty. I'm sickening for something, as it is." "How tall are you?" "Oh, more than that," I said quickly. "Gent's large medium, I am." "Then, I'll order a costume for you and have it sent round. There's no need for you to be anything historical; you might be a butcher." "Quite--blue is my colour. In fact, I can do you the best end of the neck at tenpence, madam, if you'll wait a moment while I sharpen the knife. Let's see; you like it cut on the cross, I think? Bother, they've forgotten the strop." "Well, it may not be a butcher," said Elizabeth; "it depends what they've got." * * * * * * *