The amazement of good Father Grandgousier, who had his glasses off and was nearly blind without them, when he heard these cannon-balls tumbling down from his son's head on the floor, was something worth seeing.
GARGANTUA COMBS HIS HAIR.
"Ho! ho! ho! my good son, hast thou brought fleas all this way from Paris? Didst thou think we had none of our own here?"
When Gargantua, on looking down, saw several balls at his feet, he did not know what to say. He had not felt them, and was even more puzzled than his father. But wise Master Ponocrates was always ready to give the best answer, in the best place, and in the wisest way, to any question asked. Stooping and picking up one of the balls, he said, bowing respectfully:—
"This, Your Majesty, is one of the cannon-balls which your son, while he was passing the wood of Vede, received through the treachery of your enemies."
"So that's it, is it?" cried Father Grandgousier. "Oh! the audacious vermin, to try and shoot my only son! Ho! ho! I hope not one of the rascals was allowed to escape."
"All of them," answered Ponocrates solemnly, "perished in the ruins."
"That is just as it should be," the old King said. "Now, my lords, to supper!"
There never was a supper so soon ready! For, when the order had been first given, the three Very Fat Cooks—Snapsauce, Hotchpotch, and Braverjuice—all came forward gravely, and with their right hands on their hearts swore they would soon have the finest supper that had ever been eaten, even in the Palace which was famed throughout the world for the perfection of its feasts.