No great alterations had been made in the house itself for the entertainment, for, as is well known, the fine circular staircase and the great suit of rooms on the 1st floor have few rivals in London for any function of the kind. On this occasion the only changes made were that the Duke and Duchess had kindly consented to be banished from their own private rooms at either end of the building, which were thrown into the series of saloons; that the first room to the right was fitted with a dais for the Royal party, past which at a certain period the whole company filed; and that a large supper-tent had been erected in the garden, to which access was obtained by a temporary staircase from the house. In this tent were hung three fine old Louis XIV. tapestries representing Roman scenes; these were lent by Messrs. Duveen.

Nothing could be more fanciful than the system of lighting this tent - a series of festoons of flowers from which at intervals there shone the electric light, the effect upon the gay dresses and the powdered heads of the fascinating groups below being marvellously gay and sparkling. But it may be said that the electric light and the people themselves were the only modern things there, for not a guest, not a musician, not a herald, not a servant, nay, not even any of the waiting-maids who helped the ladies in the cloak-room was permitted to appear in a dress later than the beginning of the century.

The invitations were for half-past 10, and people came early, anxious to see the beginning, middle, and end of an entertainment so exceptional and so amusing. At the head of the staircase stood the Duke of Devonshire, in the dress of Charles V - the Hapsburgs and the Cavendishes are curiously alike in feature - and wearing a genuine collar and badge of the Golden Fleece, lent him by the Prince of Wales. With him was the Duchess, as Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, her dress a marvel of soft tissues and exquisite ornament, and her tiara a still greater marvel of the jeweller's art.

The company filed past - Italians of the Renaissance; French Princes and Princesses of every age; Napoleons and Josephines (one or two of the latter very successful indeed); English beauties of the 18th century, among whom three young girls were noticeable as Reynold's "Three Ladies Waldegrave"; French marquises, with brocaded dresses and powdered hair; Orientals of times long gone by and of the other day; Cavaliers and Puritans - everything, in a word, that lent itself to fine dresses or historical retrospect.

Many well-known men were arrayed in the dresses of their family, conspicuous among them being Sir William Harcourt as Lord Chancellor Harcourt, in a flowing dark wig in the Charles II manner. Lord Ribblesdale, after the Lawrence picture of his grandfather; and many more. Others took dresses in sympathy with their characters. Mr. Asquith was notable as a Roundhead, Sir Francis Jeune as Chief Justice Popham, the Lord Chancellor in a Georgian gentleman's dress, Sir Edward Poynter as Titian, Lord Arran as a cardinal, and Lord Rowton, to the amusement of his friends, as Archbishop Parker.

It would, however, be impossible to name a tithe of the interesting and successful dresses, whether of men or women; let it suffice to say that the "Courts" were one and all triumphant displays, while such dresses as those of Lady Rothschild, after Holbein's Lady Vaux, of Messrs. Ferdinand and Alfred Rothschild, as an Austrian and French noble of the 16th century, were of extraordinary truth and beauty.

About 11 the National Anthem announced the arrival of the Royal party, who were dressed, like the rest of the company, in character, and some of whose costumes we describe elsewhere. They took their seats on the dais, and immediately the "processions" began, each Court advancing in order, bowing, and passing on.

This over, the quadrilles began - very stately and sumptuous, the Italian quadrille perhaps bearing the palm. Nothing more harmonious could well be imagined than these slow dances, walked through by magnificently dressed men and by women whose beauty and jewelled costumes set off one another with all the charm of something strange, exceptional, and unique. Waltzes followed, and a good many of the heroes and heroines were young enough and energetic enough to dance, in spite of unfamiliar cloaks and hats and dresses of strange forms.

Then came lounging in the garden, which was a fairyland of lights; supper in the tent; and the morning hours were well advanced before the 700 guests had dispersed homewards, to awake to-day upon a world that must indeed seem commonplace in comparison with the jewelled page of romance upon which, for a moment, they gazed last night.