Mistigris
"You're making a mistake, old man," whispered the Despoiler familiarly. "The arrangement was that we were going to see a review of your soldiers."
"We are going to hold a council instead," shouted the Chief Contractor, and drops of perspiration, big and pink as strawberries, rolled down his mask.
Suddenly he snatched it off and replaced it with a mask which signified "Anger."
The assembly trembled. There was a sound as of shuddering macaroni or of dominoes rattling with fear.
"Reckybecky, you are out of line!" cried the Chief Contractor from beneath his mask of saffron and flame colour. "Papylick and Mistigris, pay attention! Is it possible that already the intrusion here of two rascals made of suet is going to corrupt you all and reduce you to anarchy?"
Mistigris and Papylick came running up with a cord, and, each taking an end, they held it in front of the row of Wigs to keep them straight. Those Wigs whose feet stuck out too far drew them back, and those whose feet did not come out far enough advanced them until every one's toes touched the cord and made a straight line.
"You can roll the cord up," commanded the master; then he turned to Smaly. "Tell the truth," he demanded, "are you made of suet?"