[The face of “Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon,” appears, strongly illuminated, inside the glass-box, and regards the spectators with an impassive contempt—­greatly to their confusion.

The Male S. (in a propitiatory tone).  Not a bad-looking girl, is she? Atalanta, the Queen of the Moon (to the Oriental Beauty in next compartment).  Polly, when these people are gone, I wish you’d fetch me my work!

[The Sightseers move on, feeling crushed.  In the second compartment the upper portion of a female is discovered, calmly knitting in the centre of a small table, the legs of which are distinctly visible.

The Female S. Why, wherever has the rest of her got to?

The Oriental Beauty (with conscious superiority).  That’s what you’ve got to find out.

    [They pass on to interview “Galatea, or Pygmalion’s Dream,”
    whose compartment is as yet enveloped in obscurity.

A Youthful Showman (apparently on familiar terms with all the Illusions).  Ladies and Gentlemen, I shell now ’ave the honour of persentin’ to you the wonderful Galatear, or Livin’ Statue; you will ’ave an oppertoonity of ’andling the bust for yourselves, which will warm before your eyes into living flesh, and the lovely creecher live and speak.  ‘Ere, look sharp, carn’t yer’! [To Galatea.

Pygmalion’s Dream (from the mystic gloom).  Wait a bit, till I’ve done warming my ’ands.  Now you can turn the lights up ... there, you’ve bin and turned ’em out now, stoopid!

The Y.S. Don’t you excite yourself.  I know what I’m doin’.

(Turns the lights up, and reveals a large terra-cotta Bust.) At my request, this young lydy will now perceed to assoom the yew and kimplexion of life itself.  Galatear, will you oblige us by kindly coming to life?

    [The Bust vanishes, and is replaced by a decidedly earthly
    Young Woman in robust health.

The Y.S. Thenk you.  That’s all I wanted of yer.  Now, will you kindly return to your former styte?

    [The Young Woman transforms herself into a hideous Skull.

The Y.S. (in a tone of remonstrance).  No—­no, not that ridiklous fice!  We don’t want to see what yer will be—­it’s very loike yer, I know, but still—­(The Skull changes to the Bust.) Ah, that’s more the stoyle! (Takes the Bust by the neck and hands it round for inspection.) And now, thenking you for your kind attention, and on’y orskin’ one little fyvour of you, that is, that you will not reveal ‘ow it is done, I will now bid you a very good evenin’, Lydies and Gentlemen!

The F.S. (outside).  It’s wonderful how they can do it all for threepence, isn’t it?  We haven’t seen She yet!

Her Comp. What, ’aven’t you seen wonders enough?  Come on, then.  But you are going it, you know!