A festive Three Kings

We celebrated the 6th January, and the end of the Holy Nights, the traditional French way. We were invited to a festive dinner party, with numerous courses, in honour of Epiphany. The meal was crowned with a special cake, and in it had been baked a 'bean' -- actually a small plastic figure. The person who discovered the 'bean' in his or her slice would be the King or Queen of the evening, and would then choose a sovereign partner by slipping the 'bean' into that person's glass of champagne. And of course, there were crowns to wear.
Soon after we sat down at the magnificently caparisoned table, sparkling with crystal, silver and candles, the question came "Does anyone know what the names of the three Magi were?" Aha! a chance for me to show off. "Yes, I do," I said. They were Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar." But my brain decided to pay me back for my hubris when the next question came, "And which gift belonged to which king?" I knew I'd read this, but could not remember. So, for your info, dear reader, Melchior brought the gold, Balthazar brings frankincense, and Caspar the myrrh. I'm still mulling over the significance of those substances.
Anyhow, I had a niggling suspicion I'd get the bean, but no, I didn't. One of the male dinner guests had that privilege and chose me as his queen. Now, Brenda is the name the satirical English magazine Private Eye calls Queen Elizabeth the second, so I felt... I'm not sure what I felt. Maybe a certain royalty conferred up me (Yes!), but also a caution. As I grow older, I want to move with the times and not cling too much to how things were done in previous decades.
Side by side, the King and Queen sat for our photographic portraits to be taken. That was interesting, having a crown on our head. We had to sit straight and still because it was a slippery one, and tended to slide off and bite the carpet.
Next post we can revert to first person singular, which will be a relief.