"No, what?"
"The King's coming."
"Don't talk nonsense—what d'you mean?"
"It's true, honour bright. The Council's all head over heels already, fixing up a committee for the arrangement."
"No, really? Why, that'll be first-rate. Just wanted something to brighten things up a bit; it's been very dull lately." Old Nick rubbed his hands gleefully. "Come along, let's walk down that way a bit and see if we can get hold of somebody in the know."
"Hallo, here's Holm Berg! I say, are you on this committee?"
"No, thank goodness, I managed to get out of it. Not but that there were plenty anxious to get in!"
"Who's on it, then, do you know?"
"Well, there's Heidt, of course, as Justice, but he was quite put out about it himself, and wished His Majesty I won't say where. You see, it means getting new uniform, for the gold braid's all worn off his old one."
"Well, and who else?"