The ensemble plucked their violins,
blew their clarinets,
and struck their triangles at opportune times.

The music vibrated throughout the theatre,
winding between the pews and pillars
to reach the ear of every soul present.

The seats hummed to the deep strums of the cellos,
every pitch of the clarinets bounced from the decorated walls:
the sound encompassed the great room.

The stage was gracefully lit to expose each musician at work.
Amid the soft yellow lights were figures robotic men,
slave to the script that they no doubt strained for hours to learn.
As for their appearance, they wore matching white,
curly powdered hair wigs.
Looking akin to the hair on George Washington's head!

But despite the rather humorous display, none could argue
that the music that splayed from their steady hands
was anything short of exquisite.

Well...except for my dear old Aunt Floyd.

"Awfully quiet in here," she exclaimed.