She had refused to have her belongings sent to the apartments in the House of the Litany placed that day at her disposal, preferring to dress for the coronation before she descended from Mount Khalak.

She was therefore in a robe of black samite, trimmed with the fur of a whole chapter of extinct animals, and bangles and pendants of jewels bobbed and ticked all about her.
But on her head she wore the bonnet trimmed with a parrot, set, as usual, frightfully awry.

Beside her, with all the timidity of charming reality in the presence of fantasy, came Olivia and Antoinette--Olivia in a walking frock of white broadcloth, with an auto coat of hunting pink, and a cap held down by yards of cloudy veiling; Antoinette in a blue cloth gown, and about them both--stout little boots and suede gloves and smart shirt-waists--such an air of actuality as this chamber, prince and Sphinx and tradition and all, could not approach.

Mr.Augustus Frothingham had struck his usual incontestable middle-ground by appearing in the blue velvet of a robe of State, over which he had slipped his light covert top-coat, and he carried his immaculate top-hat and a silver-headed stick.
"Prince Tabnit," said Mrs.Medora Hastings without ceremony, "what have they done with that poor young man?
Ask him, Olivia," she besought, sinking down upon a chair of verd antique and extending a limp, plump hand to the niece who always did everything executive.
Olivia was very pale.

She had hardly slept, night-long.