said Miss Dommett, ‘and I was so pleased he copied my print frock exactly, because it was one my mother had allowed me to design myself. The woollen stockings I wore were knitted by my old French nannie Prudence. They were thick, to keep out the cold, and how they tickled!’ In the mad tea-party picture she sat in Rackham’s big wing-back chair, and the table was laid with Mrs Rackham’s best china. The Rackhams’ kitchen, and their cook, contributed to the kitchen scene. Miss Dommett remembered asking doubtfully: ‘Will she throw plates?’ ‘Oh, no,’ said Rackham, ‘they’ve been broken already.’ He had actually thrown a few to get the detail right.