In the mummy-case the queen--Who was Peggy Bacon? She wrote poetry (and later fiction) for The New Yorker from the first month of publication up to the 1950s, and she even drew a few illustrations along the way:
brittle toes and matted hair!
Her compelling portrait seen
on the lid, returns a stare.
Through millenniums enduring
as a relic, for a while
she was laughing and alluring
as a siren by the Nile.
Bead and bauble, tool and chattel,
symbol, amulet, and token,
effigies of sacred cattle
lie beside her, chipped or broken.
In the Bowery I meet
Sadie, similarly fair,
flashy sandals on her feet,
bangle, bead, and busy hair
(mummy-matted, tonsor twirled,
tinted with a dubious dye),
and a little serpent curled
in the angle of her eye.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUcQ8qt4P7zIg6SoZBmN5MpfdPgI_osxoB7dJwIbiqR1nxFW7dEWCQgseBQ3SI5An0cF1Dzx6pLbEM6rUgOGS69NqD6arI1fO8rNsUwIuiGwnNriiJQWwomL_BVCIZx9Hu3ZZ/s400/New+Yorker_Sep+27+1930_002.jpg)
You can find out much more online, starting here. She seems to have been a remarkable person.
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