If I’d been picking the seats, I wouldn’t have picked the front pew. Because of limited space, the first two rows of choir members were standing in front of the communion rail, almost stepping on our feet, so we had to crane our heads up to see them and couldn’t get a glimpse of the rest of the choir. I was afraid we’d get blasted when they opened their mouths and began to sing, and the fact that Jerome Lightfoot had set up his music stand not six feet away, in the center aisle, didn’t exactly make me any happier. But the boys were very excited at being so close to the choir, and it was all we could do to keep them from reaching out and grabbing the red velvet and gold lame of their special Christmas robes.

And we couldn’t keep the boys from standing on the pews when a hush fell over the church and Lightfoot nodded to the organist, who had been playing soft background music. The organist struck up the first few chords of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and the choir all lifted their hymnals purposefully.

Suddenly something shifted in the evergreens over the choir’s heads, and a bright green snake’s head popped out of the foliage, followed by three or four writhing feet of body.

Chapter 13

Scattered screams erupted from both the choir and the audience, and I was terrified that a stampede would take place. Cleopatra, by contrast, seemed remarkably calm.

Fortunately, Grandfather saved the day by scrambling up onto the seat of our pew, and then beginning to bellow out orders and exclamations.

“Cleopatra! Well done! You’ve found her! Quiet, everyone! She’s easily startled. Get a ladder, someone! Let’s get her down before she falls!”

A few people still fled out into the halls, but nearly everyone sat quietly and watched with interest as several sturdy basses and baritones lifted up other, lighter choir members onto their shoulders. Following Grandfather’s bellowed instructions, they carefully untangled Cleopatra from the greenery, carried her down, and placed her across Grandfather’s shoulders. The choir and congregation burst into applause as Grandfather, still wearing his scaly boa, shook the hands of Cleopatra’s rescuers. He and Caroline drafted Horace to help them drive Cleopatra back to the zoo and strode out. Once Cleopatra was gone, everyone—even the people who had briefly fled the sanctuary—seemed in an unusually good humor, and Lightfoot had a little trouble getting them all to settle down so the concert could resume.