Beast felt himself rising to stand bolt-straight under the gypsy's attention, just as if he were being attended to by servants in the castle. She fussed over him for what seemed like an eternity to his nervous perception. His cloak was removed, and she had him put on (well...put on him) shirts of all different types, shapes, colors, and prices were draped over his broad shoulders. Only then did she decide she liked the first one best, and left Beast in that. It fit rather snug over all his fur, and a small tuft was sticking out of the collar, making a fuzzy, light brown cravat.

"Oh dear, you simply can't go back out in public wearing those ragged pants. We'll have to find you a new pair. Oh dear, oh dear, wherever am I going to find something in your size? You can't very well wear a kilt with those funny legs and how big you are, everyone would see your bare bottom..." She walked off to the back again, mumbling to herself.

Beast gave a pleading look to Belle, but didn't dare speak aloud, in case the gypsy was listening. He was sure he was blushing, but his fur hid that rather well--even though it couldn't hide how embarrassed he was.