There were comfortable seats all about, and arbours covered with roses, and long, trellised walks, also rose-covered.

Whispering, splashing fountains fell into full white marble basins, white statues gleamed among the leaves, and the pigeons that swept about among the branches or pecked on the smooth, soft gravel were not black and tumbled like the Museum pigeons are now, but bright and clean and sleek as birds of new silver.

A good many people were sitting on the seats, and on the grass babies were rolling and kicking and playing--with very little on indeed.

Men, as well as women, seemed to be in charge of the babies and were playing with them.
'It's like a lovely picture,' said Anthea, and it was.

For the people's clothes were of bright, soft colours and all beautifully and very simply made.