YELLOW HOSE (_suddenly agitated_). Your Majesty, I implore your forgiveness. There is no raspberry jam in the palace.
POMPDEBILE What! Who is responsible for this carelessness?
BLUE HOSE. I gave the order to the grocer, but it didn't come. (_Aside_) I knew something like this would happen. I knew it.
VIOLETTA (_untying her apron_). Then, Pompdebile, I'm very sorry--we shall have to postpone it.
CHANCELLOR. If I may be allowed to suggest, Lady Violetta can prepare something else.
KNAVE. The law distinctly says that the Queen-elect has the privilege of choosing the dish which she prefers to prepare.
VIOLETTA. Dear Pompdebile, let's give it up. It's such a silly law! Why should a great splendid ruler like you follow it just because one of your ancestors, who wasn't half as nice as you are, or one bit wiser, said to do it? Dearest Pompdebile, please.
POMPDEBILE. We are inclined to think that there may be something in what the Lady Violetta says.
CHANCELLOR. I can no longer remain silent. It is due to that brilliant law of Pompdebile the First, justly called the Great, that all members of our male sex are well fed, and, as a natural consequence, happy.
KNAVE. The happiness of a set of moles who never knew the sunlight.
POMPDEBILE. If we made an effort, we could think of a new law--just as wise. It only requires effort.
CHANCELLOR. But the constitution. We can't touch the constitution.
POMPDEBILE (_starting up_). We shall destroy the constitution!
CHANCELLOR. The people are clamoring at the gates!
POMPDEBILE. Oh, I forgot them. No, it has been carried too far. We shall have to go on. Proceed.
POMPDEBILE (_to_ KNAVE). Go you, and procure some. I will give a hundred golden guineas for it.
(_The little boy who holds the cinnamon pot comes forward._)
BOY. In my pocket. If someone would please hold my cinnamon jar--I could get it.
(UBSULA _takes it. The boy struggles with his pocket and finally, triumphantly, pulls out a small jar._)
VIOLETTA. How clever of you! Do you always do that?
VIOLETTA. No, supply the exact article needed from your pocket.
BOY. I eat it for my lunch. Please give me the hundred guineas.
VIOLETTA. Oh, yes--Chancellor--if I may trouble you.
CHANCELLOR. Your Majesty, this is an outrage! Are you going to allow this?