Of course, this was soon noised about the city. The next morning a vast multitude swarmed into the Great Square before the Palace to the number of one million eight hundred and fifty-six thousand and eleven—not counting the women and children. At break of day, this great army was all ready to march in good order straight into the country of the Thirsty People.
But, before they all get away. I must tell you one of the cunning tricks of our old friend Panurge. He had not forgotten that the wretched little King Anarchus, whom Pantagruel had given to him as a present, had been the chief cause of the invasion of the peaceful Kingdom of Utopia. If Anarchus had shown the spirit of a brave man among the stout and faithful Giants, who had fought to the death to keep his mean little body from harm, Panurge would never have dared touch him. But Anarchus had been all along such a coward that he wasn't worth anybody's pity. So, on the evening of Pantagruel's triumphant entrance into the city, Panurge, after some hard thinking, got up a new dress for the little King. There was nothing at all royal about the dress. It was very far from being that, as it consisted of a pretty canvas doublet, all braided and pranked out; a pair of wide sailor trousers; and stockings without shoes.
"For," as Panurge said, "shoes would only spoil his sight."
He then put on the head of Anarchus a little pink cap, trimmed with a great capon-feather,—maybe I am wrong, because I have been told that there were two of these feathers,—besides a fine belt of blue and green. This was the ridiculous figure which Panurge dragged before Pantagruel.
"Do you know this fellow?"
"Not I," said Pantagruel.
"Why, this is the King of the Thirsty People! I am going to make an honest man of him. He was a pitiful rogue when he wore the crown. Now that he wears this gay dress, he is an honest man. I have given him a trade. He is a crier of green sauce, at your service. Now, little King, begin! Call out, 'Green Sauce! Green Sauce! Who wants to buy Green Sauce?'"
The poor King, from pure shame, piped out too low.
"That is not half loud enough," cried Panurge, catching him by the ear, and saying, "Sing higher, little King; sing higher in ge, sol, re, ut."
Pantagruel made himself merry at all this. I dare say the little King was the drollest man he had ever seen.