Tom stood in front of the mirror, a fan in his hand practicing curtsying and the quiet, female voice he was to use during his four-day sojourn. For reasons he could not explain, he found mimicking a female came quite naturally to him. Prudence stood behind him, directing her pupil in the ways of womanly grace. Tom could hardly believe the transformation that had taken place. He was wearing a pale blue dress which fitted snuggly at his restricted waist and spread out gloriously over side panniers making him more of a mobile object than a human being. Walking was difficult; running impossible.
Beneath the dress a white ruffled blouse pepped beneath the blue of the dress. His feet were squeezed into dainty gold and black shoes with a slight club heel; so confined Tom felt none of the normal boisterousness of his eighteen years. He felt as if every part of him had been restricted in some way – his feet, his waist, his movement due to the large dress, his arms with the tightness of the sleeves. Added to which the side panniers just added another burden, making doors difficult to negotiate but such was to be his lot.