“Oh, he’s always laughing,” declared the Court Glover; “that’s why he has to wear a mask—so that people shan’t see him laughing while he is chopping off their heads. It’s so rude, you know, to giggle at a time like that, isn’t it?”
“I should think so, indeed,” cried Marjorie, in a horrified voice; “perfectly disgraceful, I call it.”
“That’s what the last man who was executed said,” declared the Court Glover. After it was all over he said, “Well, I was never so disgracefully executed before in all my life; and I hope the next time you chop off my head, you’ll get some one else to do it.””
“I don’t understand,” said Marjorie, who was dreadfully puzzled. “How could he say all that after he was executed?”
“Why not?” asked the Court Glover, composedly.
“Why, people can’t talk when they are killed, you know,” said Marjorie.
“He—he—he!” sniggered the Executioner, putting his hand up to his mouth under his mask.
The Court Glover frowned at him. “Bless you, they aren’t killed!” he said.
“Not killed, when they are executed!” cried Marjorie.
The Executioner giggled louder than ever, and shook his head.