My hostesses were eager that I should
try all kinds of foods, and a refusal to accept met with a protest,
"Otra clase, otra clase." Then the Gobernadora and I went back to
the sala, and another group took our places at the refreshment table.
I was much interested in the babies, who were strutting about
in their finest raiment and were unquestionably annoyed at its
restrictions. Filipino babies are sharp-eyed, black-polled, attractive
little creatures. Whether of high or low degree, their ordinary dress
is adapted to the climate, and consists usually of a single low-necked
garment, which drapes itself picturesquely across the shoulders like
the cloaks of Louis the Fourteenth's time seen on the stage.
On state occasions, however, they are inducted into raiment which their
deluded mothers fancy is European and stylish; but there is always
something wrong. Either one little ruffled drawers leg sags down,
or the petticoat is longer than the dress skirt, or the waistband is
too tight, or mamma has failed to make allowance in the underclothing
for the gauziness of the outer sheathing. As for the sashes with
which the victims are finally bound, they fret the little swelled
stomachs, and the baby goes about tugging at his undesirable adornment,
and wearing the frown of one harassed past endurance. Sometimes it
ends in flat mutiny, and baby is shorn of his grandeur, and prances
innocently back into the heart of society, clad in a combination of
waist and drawers which is associated in my memory with cotton flannel
and winter nights.
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