Most people who have never sat at the high table during a feast probably wonder what it is like. I'm afraid I may disappoint you when I say that aside from the prestige of being asked to sit with the crowns and coronets, there isn't much to recommend it. You do get to be the first table served and sometimes you get to taste a special dish that has been prepared exclusively for the high table, but those are the only real advantages. You must also subtract from the prestige the fact that you do not have control over who your dinner companions will be.
Many years ago the Barony of Axemoor held an event called The Tournament of the Mad Hats. At the first Mad Hats Tourney, the feast that was held was a "Feast of Changelings." The premise of the feast was that everyone was to come to the feast as someone or something else. Because no one was who they really were, it was announced that there was no way that rank could be determined and therefore there would be no high table.
At the feast, Isolde and I were sitting opposite Countess Megan of the Shore, who was Baroness of Axemoor at that time. I shall always remember Her Excellency saying, "This is wonderful! This is the first time in two years that I have not been sitting at the high table and I can sit with my friends regardless of rank."
The following year the populace really got into the idea of the feast. One young man copied one of Isolde's signature dresses, shaved his mustache and came is Izzy's long lost twin sister: Dizzy. He claimed that he and Isolde had been separated before birth.
The copy of the dress was faithful enough that he walked in on a group of ladies who were changing and they did not immediately recognize that the dress was occupied by anyone other than the good Mistress. When they realized their error he was vigorously escorted out of the cabin.
Isolde, for her part, was somewhat less imaginative. She wore one of her black gothic dresses and a black veil and came as the Queen of the Night. The outfit was quite simple but still effective, Isolde reports that when she was transiting from the cabin to the feast hall, she gave quite a fright to one little boy she came upon in the moonlight.
Two young men attending the feast came as satyrs. They had a pair of horns affixed to their heads and wore fake fur leggings below the waist. They had even gone so far as to carve wooden hooves for their feet. When I saw them, one of the ladies was scratching a satyr behind the ears while his hove clattered on the floor as a sign of his ecstasy.
Coincidentally, I came to the feast as the god Dionysus, (some of you no doubt sees this as type casting). My costume for the feast consisted of sandals, a white kyton secured about the waist with a purple chord, and a wreath of plastic grapes. With two satyrs on the scene and the god of wine in attendance, I started noising it about that this was going to be a revel to remember!
By the time the feast was over I was really getting into the spirit of the feast, or perhaps the spirits were getting into me, but whatever the reason I decided to proposition the Queen. They had decided to have a high table because of the presence of royalty, so I boldly walked up to where Her Majesty was seated and said, "Why hang around with a king when you can have a god? He might promise you a night on Olympus, but I can deliver!"
Earlier His Majesty, Lawrence of Ashana, had been presented with an "athletic cup" to protect the royal jewels. I seem to vaguely recall that this was because he had once attended an Axemoor tourney and forgotten to pack along that most vital piece of protective equipment. The "cup" was made of sculpted metal and looked to actually be a weather cover for the bolts that fasten down highway light standards.
Her Majesty, Ana Dmitriev of Plumley, was not the least nonplused by the outrageousness of my action. She calmly picked up the "cup" that had been presented to his majesty and said, "I don't know, do you think you can fill this?"
I realized at this point that I was severely outclassed. I said something to the effect of, "I think so, let me check," and beat a hasty retreat. The queens of Meridies, obviously, should not to be taken lightly.