His Companion. Ah, but yer see it ain't so easy fitting on bits that belonged to something different. You've got to look at it that way.
The P. M. I don't see no difficulty about it. Why, any stonemason could cut down the odd pieces to fit well enough, and they wouldn't have such a neglected appearance as they do now.
A Group has collected round a Gigantic Arm in red granite.
First Sightseer. There's a arm for yer!
Second S. (a humourist). Yes; 'ow would yer like to 'ave that come a punching your 'ed?
Third S. (thoughtfully). I expect they've put it up 'ere as a sarmple like.
The Moralizing Matron. How it makes one realize that there were giants in those days!
Her Friend. But surely the size must be a little exaggerated, don't you think? Oh, is this the God Ptah?
[The M. M. says nothing, but clicks her tongue to express a grieved pity, after which she passes on.
The Intelligent Artisan and his Fiancée have entered the Nineveh Gallery, and are regarding an immense human-headed, winged bull.