W-Day

"It bores me," pouted a languid lady of Mayfair. "If it were somebody else's wedding, maybe I'd be as excited as the Americans seem to be. But it's the Royal Family and it bores me." A London cook and waitress politely declined a proffered holiday to celebrate the great event. "We'll go if you think we should, Madam," they told their American mistress. There were other Britons as apathetic, and some were downright resentful at the gushers of news concerning the wedding.

Househunters huffed loudly when Philip and Elizabeth were given huge Clarence House, once the London home of Queen Victoria's "sailor son," the Duke of Edinburgh, as an extra residence. Rationed housewives snorted at news stories of visiting royalty wining & dining at public expense. But for many another Londoner, the wedding was a happy excuse to forget personal hardships, to sentimentalize and enjoy again the elaborate and almost forgotten pageantry of royalty on display. "Why, I can feel myself getting excited already," said a City office girl a week before the event.

Glitter & Garter. Most Britons seemed content to call armistice on austerity for the moment at least. Some pickets at the Savoy Hotel obligingly effaced themselves when the bride turned up there for a reception. Despite royal permission that business suits be worn by gentlemen at the ceremony, wedding guests were swamping famed Moss Bros. with orders for rented cutaway coats and striped trousers at two guineas each, with a shining topper thrown in gratis. To everybody's relief, the King announced that the Household Cavalry would not wear khaki when escorting the bride to the Abbey, but would appear in all their full-dress glory: scarlet and blue uniforms with pipe-clayed breeches and flashing cuirasses.

A last-minute directive from the Palace permitted lady guests to deck themselves in the stars and ribands of whatever orders they might possess, and--as if to keep his daughter from being outshone in the glitter--King George invested the royal bride in the broad blue riband and jeweled insignia of the Order of the Garter.

Jeweled Anklets. London's papers did their best to keep the popular excitement at fever pitch by printing at least one new fact about the wedding every day. There was news of gifts, each one more fantastic than the last: a grand piano from the R.A.F.; a doily from Mohandas Gandhi, made of yarn spun by the old saint himself; 1,500 cans of lard from the residents of Eritrea; jeweled anklets and a statue of Siva from the Dominion of India; an ivory casket from Pakistan; a traveling bag made of elephants' ears from the women of Kenya; a spirited yearling from the stables of the Aga Khan; a necklace of diamonds & rubies from King George & Queen Elizabeth and nine dazzling diamond heirlooms from the Queen Mother.

The New York Daily News's gushing "Nancy Randolph" broke the vows of silence to print the details of the royal wedding dress; "so intricately contrived," said Nancy, as to be "surely uncopyable save by Little People in a glen." Thus reassured, London papers described the dress:

A gown of Duchesse satin, with fitted bodice and full skirt heavily encrusted with roses and stars embroidered in seed pearls. The dress has long sleeves, a sweetheart neck and a 15-yard train of silk tulle.

The Logistics. The wedding procession had been planned as carefully as a bombing mission. At exactly 11:03, when all the guests would be seated in the Abbey, Queen Mary was scheduled to take off from Marlborough House accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting in two motorcars. At the same second Queen Elizabeth, Princess Margaret, the visiting sovereigns, and a host of lady and gentlemen attendants would leave Buckingham Palace in four royal coaches. Twelve minutes later, Philip and his best man, the Marquess of Milford Haven, sworded and belted in full-dress Navy uniforms, would enter the Abbey by a side door. One minute later (11:16), the King and the bride, attended by seven equerries and ladies and escorted by the royal cavalry, would start their trip to Westminster.

At 11:28 they would be met at the west door by the Dean and Chapter of Westminster. In a procession led by the King's Comptroller, his Master of the Household, the King's Scholars (students of Westminster School), the Abbey choir, the Minor Canons, the Canons and other high officials of the Abbey, Elizabeth, "supported" by her father and attended by two pages (her cousins Prince Michael of Kent and Prince William of Gloucester), eight bridesmaids (including Princess Margaret), two ladies-in-waiting, a private secretary, two equerries, a groom-in-waiting and a lord-in-waiting, would march up the aisle to meet her bridegroom.

By Wednesday night, when the final rehearsal had been held, every detail of this vast pageant had been checked. The royal coach horses had been carefully acclimated by phonograph to the sound of martial music. The bride's stockings were specially woven to prevent runs even while kneeling. It seemed as though nothing could go wrong, except perhaps the weather. Greenwich weathermen gloomily pointed out that 13 of the last 16 Nov. 20s had been either rainy or foggy--"but that," said a dignitary in the Lord Chamberlain's office, "is too horrible to contemplate."

Bachelor & Bombe. Last week, the bride & groom were kept busy at a round of functions. On Monday before the wedding there was a small (100 guests) dance at the Palace for their intimate friends. On Monday and Tuesday afternoons receptions for wedding gift donors at St. James's. On Tuesday night a starchy state reception for 1,000 or more visiting dignitaries and Government officials.

Early last week Philip had decided to dodge the "Flower Ball" at the Savoy and dine instead with his Uncle "Dickie" Mountbatten. Elizabeth had to attend the function alone, and witnesses described her mood as "frightful." Next day Philip further asserted his vanishing independence at a bachelor dinner in Soho with some old Fleet Street friends. As the week drew to a close, His Majesty's Lord Chamberlain and the Home Secretary busied themselves preparing letters patent proclaiming Philip a Duke and a Royal Highness. Meanwhile Bachelor Philip could look forward to an automatic increase in his Navy pay of $18.83 a week ($17.50 marriage allowance plus $1.33 for extra rations).

The night before the wedding, bride & groom dined alone with their families. The next meal they would take together would be as man & wife at the wedding breakfast in Buckingham Palace, where a three-course austerity menu of fish, partridge and bombe Elizabeth (ice cream) would be served.

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