stone, and they begin to play. Happy Maestro! The feast is rich and fine, the fiddlers merry, he is there to lead the orchestra. It is a splendid wedding.
Here comes the bridal party. The little Bride and Groom march around and around. The young folks sing the wedding song. The old folks join in the chorus. Now they take partners and dance the polka. The orchestra plays as the Bride and Groom lead off around the room. The fat aunts whirl in the corners and the thin aunts spin in the middle of the dance floor. Outside, under the windows, spreading their flowery skirts in the soft moonlight, the grandmothers twist and turn like coffee-mills.
Forward, backward, point your toe! Even the babies on the benches are part of the rhythm with their little gurgles and waving arms.
Midnight! The harebells chime the hour. The feasting is begun. Sweet wine and wedding cake, wedding cake and wine. The Maestro is a wonderful leader of music. The Maestro is a wonderful leader of eating. Never mind the music now! Never mind the other fiddlers! The acorn cups are so small he must empty dozens of them. Joy is like an empty well. The wedding cake is cut in such thin slices he must munch platters of them. Never mind the dancers! Everyone must eat and drink. After the others are finished and waiting for more music, Maestro must still eat and drink. The wedding guests will have to wait for him.
