His wife stood helplessly by, still gripping the autobroom which she had evidently wielded without success in an attempt to rout the intruders.
Dismayed, Titus elbowed his way through a dedicated choral group that was patriotically rendering the "Fayothian Anthem," sidestepped a tumbling foursome obviously from one of the Lesser Javapa planets and pushed aside a debating team which was having little luck making itself heard above the general cacophony.
Edna swept out to meet him. "Titus, they just won't leave!"
"Who are they? What do they want?"
"I don't know." She was having a difficult time restraining herself. "They asked for the ministry of something or other. Then they said they were cooped up so long that they had to get some practice."
Titus bellowed for attention. But nobody turned an ear, except a pirouetting ballerina who whirled to a stop nearby, glissaded over in front of him and made a theatrical display of bending over and planting a set of lip-prints on his forehead—a gesture that fed considerable fuel to Edna's vexation.
"You're cute," the dancer tittered. "You got the word on this place, Pudgy? What is it—a stopover station?"
Before he could answer, one of the tumblers shouted, "It's snowing!"
The choral group broke reverently into the ancient carol "Noel" while the orchestra paused on an upbeat and swung into a jazzed-up "Jingle Bells."
Perplexed, Titus stared at the dancing snowflakes. But that was impossible! It never snowed here on McWorther's World!