“Hail, King of Scotland!”
The dress rehearsal was coming to a close as the new king was crowned. Only a few difficulties had arisen. Lady Macbeth still had a tendency to giggle during her sleep-walking scene, and Macduff’s sword kept catching in its scabbard during the fight scenes. But tomorrow, they would be ready.
The seniors, flushed and pleased, accepted Miss Hamilton’s and Dean Langdon’s praises before heading to the storeroom with their costumes. Concordia asked why the president had not attended the dress rehearsal.
“It’s a long-held tradition,” Miss Pomeroy had explained. “Years ago, one of the senior classes had insisted that the president see only their finished product, and it has been that way ever since. The senior play is a source of great pride to them.”
The spect
