The assumption of these fantastic disguises by the royal personages is elaborately apologised for by the chronicler, by whom it was considered apparently as a somewhat risky and undignified experiment; especially as, owing to it, no male person except Olivares and his household was admitted to the gardens themselves; the gentlemen {235} of the Court being relegated to the stands by the Prado wall, in order that they might not see the King unbend sufficiently to don a disguise. When Lope de Vega's new comedy, "_The Night of St. John_," was finished, the royal party retired to a banqueting-room constructed of flowers in the other garden on the north. Here a sumptuous supper was served at midnight, the King and Queen at their high table being served by Olivares and his wife, everything being done with perfect silence and order,--"though a multitude of dishes were carried to the musicians, singers, and gentlemen in the orchestra stands." By the time the lights were dimming, and the sky was turning to pearly grey beyond the trees of St. Geronimo, the whole stately company turned out in their coaches for a drive up and down the Prado; and then back to the palace, doubtless to sleep.[17] When the dawn broke fully, it was found that, notwithstanding the prohibition, a perfect host of people, men and boys, had surreptitiously found their way in from the Prado, and, hidden in the copses and under the stagings, they had witnessed the whole show, including the questionable proceeding of risking the majesty of monarchs by a fancy dress; whereupon the chronicler attributes the quietness and {236} patience of these intruders to the awe and reverence inspired by a king, no matter how dressed.[18]