Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

"I look like a man in a dress!" he said.

"You sound like a man in a dress," she responded, adding, "Just keep still a moment while I straighten out the hem."

She leaned over and moved slowly round him, twitching the folds of the heavy satin damask skirt so that it fell evenly all round him.

"There! That looks better. What do you think?"

He turned, this way and that, inspecting himself in the full-length mirror.

"I like it," he said. "You've done wonders with the fit. It'll be perfect for the service."

This material is perfect for a wedding dress, she thought. I must get some more.

"I wish I'd borrowed some of your tights," he added. "I'm not sure about wearing these stockings. The air in that church won't have warmed up much yet."

"You'll be all right under all those layers, you'll see. What about those shoes?" she asked. "You haven't worn them in properly yet."

"They're okay." He raised a leg so one peeped out from the bottom of the skirt. "You don't think patent leather and real silver buckles is too much?"

"Of course not. They go with your outfit just right. Now, let me fit the head-dress for you."

She used a small kick-stool and placed the head-dress carefully on his head, securing it firmly into place with copious hair grips. Before she stepped down she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"There! Now you are ready. I'd like to say, 'knock 'em dead', but I don't think that would be quite appropriate, do you?"

He smiled, remembering the solemnity of the impending occasion.

She opened the door and ushered him out. "After you, bishop."