The wassailing went well!

There were colourful headdresses a'plenty when wassailers from all quarters turned up at the orchard tonight. One fellow wore an embroidered, quilted and bejeweled coat that had been worn by the Beast in the Sydney performance and another, a hat consisting largely of rosemary. We banged tin buckets, we beat goatskin drums. Cider flew in all directions. The Wassailing Queen was regal and remembered the toast. Someone whistled Dixie on a blade of grass. The embers of the day's fire glowed  in a Milky-Wayish fashion. We pre-warned Mrs Quirk and she appreciated that. I addressed the orchard's oldest tree and I'm certain she'll produce like never before.
Next year, we'll eat before we drink and set out torches to mark the path through the orchard.
All in all, a splendid time was had by each and every wassailer.

In our mind's eye, we wassailed like this...

...and like this.