"Boppery bopp!" he exclaimed, presently, "but this bores us. Is there
no better fun? Let us have a quail-fight, Khan."
The Khan rose to order in the quails. The King gazed on Nuna with
languid satiety.
"I wonder how she would look, Europe-fashion."
"Nothing is easier, Sire, than to see how she would look," said the
Khan, as he returned with the quails.
So a gown, and other articles of European female attire, were sent for
to the Khan's house; for he was a married man; and when they were
brought, Nuna was told to retire and put them on. The quail-fight
proceeded on the table.
Then Nuna reappeared in her new costume. A more miserable
transformation it is hardly possible to imagine. The clothes hung
loosely about her, in forlorn dowdyness. She felt that she was
ridiculous. All grace was gone, all beauty. It was distressing to
witness her mortified plight.
The King and the Khan laughed heartily, while scalding tears coursed
down poor Nuna's cheeks. The other nautch-girls, jealous, had no pity
for her; they chuckled at her disgrace, turning up their pretty noses,
as they whispered,--"Serve her right,--the brazen minx!"
For days, nay, for weeks, did poor Nuna thus appear, a laughing-stock.
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