Mr. Peterkin found himself with the "Cricket on the Hearth," in the Dickens Booth. He explained that he was Peter the Great, but always in the Russian language, which was never understood. Elizabeth Eliza found herself, in turn, in all the booths. Every manager was puzzled by her appearance, and would send her to some other, and she passed along, always trying to explain that she had not yet decided upon her character. Mr. Peterkin came and took Cleopatra from the Whittier Booth. "I cannot understand," he said, "why none of our friends are dressed in costume, and why we are." "I rather like it," said Elizabeth Eliza, "though I should be better pleased if I could form a group with some one." The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join the performers. It was the dance of her youth. But she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to the stage. "I cannot understand this company," he said, distractedly. "They cannot find their booth," said another. "That is the case," said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated. "Perhaps you had better pass into the corridor," said a polite marshal. They did this, and, walking across, found themselves in the refreshment-room. "This is the booth for us," said Mr. Peterkin. "Indeed it is," said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair, exhausted. At this moment two doves and a raven appeared,--the little boys, who had been dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came down for ice-cream. "I hardly know how to sit down," said Elizabeth Eliza, "for I am sure Mrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I will venture it." Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged in a row, calmly eating ice-cream. "I think the truth is," said Mr. Peterkin, "that we represent historical people, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. That is, I observe, what the others are. We shall know better another time." "If we only ever get home," said Mrs. Peterkin, "I shall not wish to come again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and it is so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and going round and round in this way." "I am afraid we shall never reach home," said Agamemnon, who had been silent for some time; "we may have to spend the night here. I find I have lost our checks for our clothes in the cloak-room!" "Spend the night in a booth, in Cleopatra's turban!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. "We should like to come every night," cried the little boys. "But to spend the night," repeated Mrs. Peterkin. "I conclude the Carnival keeps up all night," said Mr. Peterkin. "But never to recover our cloaks," said Mrs. Peterkin; "could not the little boys look round for the checks on the floors?"