They stood at a corner to see if an empty cab would come along, while carriage after carriage drove past, bearing Forsytes of all descriptions from the Zoo. The harness, the liveries, the gloss on the horses’ coats, shone and glittered in the May sunlight, and each equipage, landau, sociable, barouche, Victoria, or brougham, seemed to roll out proudly from its wheels:

“I and my horses and my men you know,

Indeed the whole turnout have cost a pot.

But we were worth it every penny. Look

At Master and at Missis now, the dawgs!

Ease with security⁠—ah! that’s the ticket!”