"Ladees und gentlemen: the time have arrived that we shall begin.
Will the gentlemen serve the ladees to a wand, each one, then spread
theirselves about the hall, and follow the motions I will make as I
shall count."

Five minutes of chaos, then all fell into order, and nothing was
heard but the leader's voice and the stir of many bodies moving
simultaneously. An uninitiated observer would have thought himself
in Bedlam; for as the evening wore on, the laws of society seemed
given to the winds, and humanity gone mad. Bags flew in all
directions, clubs hurtled through the air, and dumb-bells played a
castinet accompaniment to peals of laughter that made better music
than any band. Old and young gave themselves up to the universal
merriment, and, setting dignity aside, played like happy-hearted
children for an hour. Stout Dr. Quackenboss gasped twice round the
hall on one toe; stately Mrs. Primmins ran like a girl of fifteen to
get her pins home before her competitor; Tommy Inches, four feet
three, trotted away with Deacon Stone on his shoulder, while Mr.
Steepleton and Miss Maypole hopped together like a pair of lively
young ostriches, and Ned Amandine, the village beau, blew arrows
through a pop-gun, like a modern Cupid in pegtops instead of
pinions.

The sprightly young lady whose entrance had been so opportune seemed
a universal favorite, and was overwhelmed with invitations to "bag,"
"hop," and "blow" from the gentlemen who hovered about her,
cheerfully distorting themselves to the verge of dislocation in
order to win a glance of approbation from the merry black eyes which
were the tapers where all these muscular moths singed their wings.