For this reason, more than ordinary encouragement was given to the celebration of the occasion by a grand ball. A wooden building of enormous size was erected, which at the time was considered an “immense affair.” It was tastefully decorated with flags and other proper insignia; in the enthusiasm of the hour, many articles were loaned for its decorations by citizens, who ordinarily took no interest in these “stated occasions.” The best music that could be obtained was in attendance, and to give the crowning zest, “Miss Betty” was to be present. The Lady of the Mansion for the next four years, young, handsome, and hopeful, was to be presented to the admiring public. There was the usual crowd and the characteristic confusion; but nevertheless there pervaded the multitude an intense desire to behold the new occupant of the White House. There was a “Hero President.” There was a charming young bride, a young and graceful lady to do the honors of the public receptions. “At eleven o’clock, General Taylor entered, leaning on the arms of Major Seaton and Speaker Winthrop.” His fine eye was bright, his step was elastic, he was brave, he was a conqueror, he was President, and the gentlemen expressed their feelings in spontaneous cheers, while ladies waved their handkerchiefs and many wept for sympathy. A silence ensued, a movement at the head of the room indicated that a new scene was to be enacted. The throng pressed back, and Mrs. Bodisco, then the young and handsome wife of the Russian Minister, enveloped in a cloud of crimson satin and glistening with diamonds, supported by two ambassadors emblazoned in gold lace and orders, came forward—just behind were two “Louisiana beauties,” a blonde and a brunette, whose brilliant charms subsequently divided the gentlemen in perplexity as to which should be acceded the palm of the belle of the evening. “Which is Miss Betty?” whispered the throng as these queenly creatures, by their native charms, without the aid of dress, eclipsed the more glowing splendor of the Russian court. Then behind these came “Miss Betty,” plainly dressed in white, a simple flower in her hair, timid and faltering, yet with an expression in her eye that showed she was Zachary Taylor’s favorite child. The expectations of the vast crowd were for the moment realized, and then followed expressions of enthusiasm that were overwhelming.