The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long.

Two maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of thread.

A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment up high on one uplifted hand.

"Mavra, quicker, darling!" "Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..." "Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door.