With a discreet bow, you murmured, "One moment, Your Ladyship," as your fingers deftly examined the loose silver bells. Kneeling by the window where the morning light was strongest, you produced a tiny screwdriver from your waistcoat pocket - a butler must always be prepared. Lady Whiskerton watched with feigned disinterest, though her ears twitched at each metallic chime as you worked.

Within moments, the bells were secured tighter than ever, their cheerful jingle now crisp and clear. You gave the peacock feather an expert flick, sending iridescent blue-green hues dancing across the Persian rug. Her Ladyship's pupils dilated instantly, her dignified posture giving way to the primal hunter within.

The game began in earnest, with you maneuvering the feather just out of reach in elaborate patterns. Lady Whiskerton's silver fur rippled as she leaped with astonishing grace, paws swiping at the elusive prize. When she finally caught the feather between her teeth, she shook it triumphantly before dropping it at your polished shoes - the universal feline signal to begin again.

Sunlight streamed through the bay windows as you continued the dance, your morning coat long forgotten on a nearby chair. The grandfather clock chimed nine, but time seemed suspended in this perfect moment of play. A contented purr rumbled from Her Ladyship's chest as she batted at the feather now tracing figure-eights above her head.