A piano softly plays as a monarch butterfly dances outside the window near my cushioned seat, amid the greenery and the lake glistening from the sun rising in the blue sky above Cheyenne Mountain and The Broadmoor’s regal towers.

Pink flowers catch my eye, finely arranged at the center of my linen-draped table. Across the Lake Terrace Dining Room — the first dining room in the hotel’s illustrious, 107-year history — champagne is being poured from a bottle and orange juice from a small mug into the flute glasses of some of the hundreds of guests with reservations this Sunday.

Brunch has begun.

Not just any brunch, but a brunch as legendary as The Broadmoor itself. An all-you-can-eat brunch worthy of the $105 price, say regular visitors and others celebrating special occasions. A brunch worthy of the Forbes Five-Star and AAA Five-Diamond awards that this Colorado Springs institution has maintained longer than any resort in the world.

The buffet has apparently been served for as long as those distinctions have been awarded, both dating to the 1970s. The Broadmoor’s historian, Cynthia Leonard, showed me a photo from back then, capturing what appeared to be a long table of seafood before servers in suits.

“A little simpler than the extravaganza we have now,” Leonard observed.

Into the extravaganza I go.

Where, oh where, to begin?

Surely at a showstopper: an ice sculpture overlooking a bed of ice for oysters, plump shrimp and equally plump crab meat ready for plucking from the claw. Butter simmers in a neighboring pot.

Surf and turf, I’m thinking, as I move on to a man carving prime rib. Then I move to another attendant preparing eggs benedict.

Smiling attendants beckon all around. One carves bourbon-glazed ham; another makes omelets; another pours buttermilk on a griddle for pancakes; another rolls sushi; another sears chicken to place atop pasta coated in a lemon caper cream sauce.

Every pasta needs a salad: the signature Broadmoor Caesar, which is close to the ceviche station. Two choices here: one with tuna, mango and a coconut lemongrass dressing, and another with shrimp, cilantro, garlic, tomato, lime and avocado, beside a bowl of more shrimp for the taking.

The choices go on and on.

Charcuterie is next to dripping honeycomb from The Broadmoor’s own bee farm. The biscuits are next to the gravy, which is next to the pecan sticky buns. Other baked goods, done the French way of the hotel’s French-born pastry chef: croissants and a sugary brioche bun that oozes with lemon curd. The bagels are over by the fresh salmon, smoked trout, cream cheese, onions and capers.

Over here: herb-roasted salmon on orzo and red sauce. Over there: green chili casserole. Here’s the loaded mac and cheese, which I’d heard was a staff favorite, along with the fried rice. And there’s the jambalaya and the gyros and the slow-braised kale and on and on.

And on to dessert.

For a last yet perhaps main event, a chef cuts a banana into a hot pan of caramel and rum that is poured over homemade ice cream. I’m also eyeing a piña colada parfait, and also the bread pudding, and also a slice of chocolate fudge cake, and also a round key lime tart, and also a rectangular strawberry-hibiscus cake — among other colorful, glossy confections.

“We want everything beautiful and eye-catching,” Sydney Braden, the sous chef in the bakery, had told me. “We try to make sure it’s grand.”

Braden is among dozens of staffers who make The Broadmoor brunch happen.

“It’s a big production,” says Nicole Wilson, the Lake Terrace Dining Room manager.

It starts Wednesday and Thursday, as the team gets a good idea of reservation numbers for the coming Sunday. Much of the fruit and vegetable cutting, sauce and garnish mixing, marinating and other prep work happens before Saturday night, says Bethany Fahey, the chef who’s overseen the process over the years.

“They’ll fire the hams starting at 11 at night,” she says, “and then just go low and slow all night until the next team comes in at 4 in the morning.”

That team gets going on the prime rib, bacon and sausage, and the oysters that need cleaning and shucking. Behind the main kitchen is the bakery, where work also continues hours before dawn.

By the time others arrive around 7 a.m., a diagram has been posted, with names of servers assigned to table sections and other names written by buffet stations. Others are running food and replacing tongs and spoons every 10 or 15 minutes.

“It’s all teamwork,” says Daniella Gonzalez, junior sous chef and supervisor. “We all come together as a team and make it happen every Sunday.”

This Sunday morning finds her high-fiving teammates while moving briskly through the kitchen, like the chef in charge. Luis Alcantara is not above menial tasks; here he is whipping up some hollandaise, dipping his spoon for a taste before pouring it into three jars.

“For a VIP,” Alcantara says with a smile. “They wanted three mason jars of hollandaise. Whatever they want!”

The Broadmoor brunch is more than anyone could possibly want. However refined, I even notice specialties for children: funfetti pancakes and waffles and a purple parfait topped with Fruit Loops.

Kids are given a penny as they leave. Outside the dining room, there’s a fountain for wishing.

I meet a boy tossing his penny now. “I can’t say my wish!” he says.

I make a guess: a return trip to brunch.