"Mmhm," Jules agreed mildly, turning her head to survey the crowd of people in the room. She had assumed that Miss Smith had known that she was walking into auditions for a play, though perhaps that had been a silly guess given how she'd made her entrance. The question, however, seemed to confirm that she had no idea at all what she'd walked into, and now Jules was looking at the room in a new light. If she hadn't known these were auditions, what would she have thought upon walking in? Seeing people squinting at little sheets of paper and talking to themselves, some in little mutterings and some in loud, booming voices. Perhaps that some bit of magic had gone awry and everyone here was temporarily insane, Jules speculated. If she had been in Miss Smith's shoes, perhaps she would have sworn, too.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," she explained. "To be performed around midsummer. A stroke of creative genius, that; and it's certainly never been done before," she said with mild but dry sarcasm. The exact same play had been done in the same park only a few years ago, and she remembered attending it. These were hardly professional actors, though; it was a women's society group, which spent most of their time arranging flowers and gossiping over tea. They could, perhaps, be forgiven for a lack of imagination. "I suppose if it goes well, perhaps they'll put on A Winter's Tale this winter, too."