“It grows,” said the dwarf laughing, “when a turn-spit and spoon-wielder like you turns up. There—I will sit here.”
“You are welcome,” said the steward, “what do you bring?”
“Myself.”
“Then you bring nothing great.”
“Else I should not suit you either!” retorted the dwarf. “But seriously, my lady mother, the noble Katuti, and the Regent, who just now is visiting us, sent me here to ask you whether Paaker is not yet returned. He accompanied the princess and Nefert to the City of the Dead, and the ladies are not yet come in. We begin to be anxious, for it is already late.”
The steward looked up at the starry sky and said: “The moon is already tolerably high, and my lord meant to be home before sun-down.”
“The meal was ready,” sighed the cook. “I shall have to go to work again if he does not remain all night.”
“How should he?” asked the steward. “He is with the princess Bent-Anat.”
“And my mistress,” added the dwarf.
“What will they say to each other,” laughed gardener; “your chief litter-bearer declared that yesterday on the way to the City of the Dead they did not speak a word to each other.”