The falsework was rapidly removed and the sustaining framework was painted with opaque varnish to render it plainly visible. At Seaton’s suggestion the walls of the cabins were also painted, leaving transparent several small areas to serve as windows.
The second work-period was drawing to a close, and as Seaton and Crane were to be married before koprat, they stopped work. They marveled at the amount that had been accomplished, and the Kofedix told them:
“Both vessels will be finished tomorrow, except for the controlling instruments, which we will have to make ourselves. Another crew will work during the sleeping-period, installing the guns and other fittings. Do you wish to have your own guns installed, or guns of our pattern? You are familiar with them now.”
“Our own, please. They are slower and less efficient than yours, but we are used to them and have a lot of X-plosive ammunition for them,” replied Seaton, after a short conference with Crane.
After instructing the officers in charge of the work, the three returned to the palace, the hearts of two of them beating high in anticipation. Seaton went into Crane’s room, accompanied by two attendants bearing his suitcase and other luggage.
“We should have brought along dress clothes, Mart. Why didn’t you think of that, too?”
“Nothing like this ever entered my mind. It is a good thing we brought along ducks and white soft shirts. I must say that this is extremely informal garb for a state wedding, but since the natives are ignorant of our customs, it will not make any difference.”
“That’s right, too—we’ll make ’em think it’s the most formal kind of dress. Dunark knows what’s what, but he knows that full dress would be unbearable here. We’d melt down in a minute. It’s plenty hot enough as it is, with only duck trousers and sport-shirts on. They’ll look green instead of white, but that’s a small matter.”
Dunark, as best man, entered the room some time later.
“Give us a look, Dunark,” begged Seaton, “and see if we’ll pass inspection. I was never so rattled in my life.”
They were clad in spotless white, from their duck oxfords to the white ties encircling the open collars of their tennis shirts. The two tall figures—Crane’s slender, wiry, at perfect ease; Seaton’s broad-shouldered, powerful, prowling about with unconscious, feline suppleness and grace—and the two handsome, high-bred, intellectual faces, each wearing a look of eager happiness, fully justified Dunark’s answer.
“You sure will do!” he pronounced enthusiastically, and with Seaton’s own impulsive good will he shook hands and wished them an eternity of happiness.
“When you have spoken with your brides,” he continued, “I shall be waiting to escort you into the chapel. Sitar told me to say that the ladies are ready.”
Dorothy and Margaret had been dressed in their bridal gowns by Sitar and several other princesses, under the watchful eyes of the Karfedir herself. Sitar placed the two girls side by side and drew off to survey her work.
“You are the loveliest creatures in the whole world!” she cried.
They looked at each other’s glittering gowns, then Margaret glanced at Dorothy’s face and a look of dismay overspread her own.
“Oh, Dottie!” she gasped. “Your lovely complexion! Isn’t it terrible for the boys to see us in this light?”
There was a peal of delighted laughter from Sitar and she spoke to one of the servants, who drew dark curtains across the windows and pressed a switch, flooding the room with brilliant white light.
“Dunark installed lamps like those of your ship for you,” she explained with intense satisfaction. “I knew in advance just how you would feel about your color.”
Before the girls had time to thank their thoughtful hostess she disappeared and their bridegrooms stood before them. For a moment no word was spoken. Seaton stared at Dorothy hungrily, almost doubting the evidence of his senses. For white was white, pink was pink, and her hair shone in all its natural splendor of burnished bronze.
In their wondrous Osnomian bridal robes the beautiful Earth-maidens stood before their lovers. Upon their feet were jeweled slippers. Their lovely bodies were clothed in softly shimmering garments that left their rounded arms and throats bare—garments infinitely more supple than the finest silk, thick-woven of metallic threads of such fineness that the individual wires were visible only under a lens; garments that floated and clung about their perfect forms in lines of exquisite grace. For black-haired Margaret, with her ivory skin, the Kondalian princess had chosen a background of a rare white metal, upon which, in complicated figures, glistened numberless jewels of pale colors, more brilliant than diamonds. Dorothy’s dress was of a peculiar, dark-green shade, half-hidden by an intricate design of blazing green gems—the strange, luminous jewels of this strange world. Both girls wore their long, heavy hair unbound, after the Kondalian bridal fashion, brushed until it fell
