The happy diners sipped Smoking Bishops, a hot mixture compounded in a jug with gin and lemons, as they watched the carving of the crown roast. A murmur of delight arose all round the board as the knife was plunged into the roast.
The faithful hound stood watchfully by wishing that something might fall her way.
The dining room was appointed with the finest of linens and china.
Crystal sparkled beneath the light of a lavish chandelier bedecked with silver bells.
Happily, the family display of glass offered far more than a mere two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.
And in that stately room, the finest and most elegant of meals awaited the happy diners. First, there was the silky Chestnut Soup...
Then a glorious Crown Roast with Red Onion Gravy...
Sizzling Yorkshire Puddings...
'Delicate potatoes whipped and piped so that they appeared upon the plate as a garden of flowers...
Crispy celery and cucumbers in the richest of lemon cream sauces...
And then, after all had partaken of a more than sufficient dinner, the Reimagnolis left the room alone to take the pudding up and bring it in. The diners waited, too nervous to bear witness. Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning out! All sorts of horrors were supposed. But in half a minute the Reimagnolis entered—flushed by the steam and smiling proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball.
And when at last the dinner was done, the cloth was cleared, and the dishes removed, the happy diners departed wishing each other ‘A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!’ And the family responded ‘God bless us every one!’
