reminded of my mother, who invariably added a benign hunter to Perraultâs Little Red Riding Hood, who kills the wolf and rescues the previously devoured child and her aged grandmother. I was stunned when I first read the story for myself and discovered that in fact it ends abruptly after the wolfâs repast. Was the hunter truly nothing but a little show of magic destined to console and reassure the tender listeners, who would be shocked and frightened by the plain reality?
âLook,â whispered Arthur suddenly, interrupting my train of thought. âItâs Puckâs scene. Ernestâs flame will soon appear!â
I shifted on my cushion, rearranged my posture and observed the mischievous youth cheerfully recounting his exploits, until the fairy shushes him out of the way for the advent of the Queen.
âWhat a silly Ernest is â thatâs obviously a wig!â I whispered into Arthurâs ear, as a lady stepped forth wielding a sceptre, followed by a ragtag band of fairies carrying her lengthy train. She was not young, but her gait was strong and elegant, and the blonde mane which streamed nearly to her knees was crowned with a wreath of leaves and berries. The effect, while very unlike my personal vision of Titania, was not unqueenly, and the reproaches she immediately proceeded to heap upon her wayward husband reminded me faintly of Kathleen. I noticed Arthur smiling privately.
I continued to stare at Titania curiously during every scene in which she appeared. Stately rather than fairy-like, I actually thought she would have been better as Helena â except â
âErnest is odd,â I said, smiling, as we rose a little stiffly, and gathering up our wraps and basket, made our way across the broad meadow over which the slight dimming of the late afternoon sun was beginning to be perceptible. âToo small to play Helena and too blonde to play Hermia, indeed! Why, if anything, itâs the opposite. Sheâs quite tall, but if her eyebrows are anything to judge by, I think sheâs really dark-haired.â
âYes, I noticed that,â agreed Arthur. âCareless of them. Surely they could have lightened them up a little, to match the wig.â
And he teased Ernest about it, as he and Kathleen met us to deliver our small bags and join us in a final cup of tea before we boarded our train.
âSo you took the lovely Titania for a true blonde?â he said laughingly. âVanessa and I have a theory that she isnât really. Her eyebrows were too dark. Itâs particularly strange as they took such pains with the costumes. They were really most successful. I wonder how theatres manage it â so many costumes, for so many different plays!â
âAnd even worse â the same ones in a different size, any time they change the actor for a given role,â I added. âAll those alterationsâ¦â I stopped suddenly, struck by my own remark.
âAccording to the play we have just heard â
Trelawney of the Wells,
itâs called â some actors are obliged to purchase their own costumes,â said Kathleen. âThey must share, though. Itâs too expensive for the beginning ones, on their tiny salaries. After all, theatre costumes are no ordinary clothes. They are both special and expensive. The actresses in the play shared everything, although Ernestâs friend told us he keeps his own things for himself. But there isnât anything about the theatre that Pinero doesnât know.â
âYou mean that the play you heard was a play about acting?â I said curiously.
âExactly. It was about the life of actors and actresses in a small London theatre. But the true subject is not so different from what we were discussing yesterday. Rose Trelawney is an immensely popular, successful young actress, but she falls in love with a rich young man of good family, and gives up the stage for him. Yet she cannot get used