Chapter 62

Scarlet and gold and velvet, wigs and cockades, postilions and outriders, and the magnificent greys, down the midst of the broad, green lane at a royal pace come the King’s horses and the King’s men. And the King and his Queen in their carriage, with the Equerries riding beside and their Train behind. Match me that quiet progress, match me that sight in the sunshine, match me the brilliance of that moment—Tradition itself ennobled by the unceremonious perfection with which it is observed. Then the Royal Standard is…