“Six pounds a year is a great deal more than you are worth!” declared the First Lord of the Cash Box emphatically.
“So it is, so it is!” agreed the rest of the Committee.
The poor Court Poet looked very crestfallen, while the two gentlemen sitting near him frowned at him severely, the Kitchen Poker in Waiting looking particularly disgusted.
“Ahem! I should like to suggest,” said the Minister of Experiments, coughing importantly and standing up to address the meeting, “that instead of reducing his salary we should reduce his title, and that, instead of his being known as His Insignificance the Court Poet, he should in future be called His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester.”
This proposal seemed to find favour with the whole company, and, being put to the vote, was carried unanimously; and His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester was told to sit down, which he did very meekly, looking half inclined to burst into tears.
“Now then,” said the Lord Chief Adjudicator when this was all over, “we really must get to business; and as the Public Rhymester is not capable of setting forth ‘The Cause of Dismay’ in verse, as is the custom here, I must try and explain to you in prose. The facts, as you are aware, are as follows: Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth——King of Zum and Emperor of——” began the King’s Exaggerator, evidently intending to enumerate all of the late King’s titles; but he was forcibly prevented from doing so by the two gentlemen sitting next to him, one of whom held him down, while the other tied a handkerchief tightly over his mouth.
The Lord High Adjudicator nodded approval and proceeded.
“Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth, being deceased, and the Crown Prince having mysteriously disappeared some five years since, and there being no legal successor to the throne, what are we to do for a King? As you are aware, this land has always been governed by a hereditary absolute Monarchy, and His late never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented Majesty left absolutely no relations whatever; what are we to do about the government of the country? That is the question, gentlemen, which we have met here to discuss to-day.”
Almost before the Lord High Adjudicator had finished, every member of the Committee got up excitedly and began to unfold his own particular plan for the government of the land, each trying to drown the other’s voice. The noise was deafening, and the poor old Clerk was so alarmed at the uproar, that he collapsed into his box and was found after the meeting still sitting on the floor with his fingers pressed to his ears and trembling with fright.
For some time the utmost confusion reigned, but at last the Lord High Adjudicator stood up in his chair and motioned them all to sit down, which, after a time, they did.