“They’re great, aren’t they?” whispered Bonaparte to Munchausen.
“Well, rather,” returned the Baron. “I don’t see why the mortals don’t erect a statue to the canvas-back.”
“Did anybody at this board ever have as much canvas-back duck as he could eat?” asked Doctor Johnson.
“Yes,” said the Baron. “I did. Once.”
“Oh, you!” sneered Ptolemy. “You’ve had everything.”
“Except the mumps,” retorted Munchausen. “But, honestly, I did once have as much canvas-back duck as I could eat.”
“It must have cost you a million,” said Bonaparte. “But even then they’d be cheap, especially to a man like yourself who could perform miracles. If I could have performed miracles with the ease which was so characteristic of all your efforts, I’d never have died at St. Helena.”
“What’s the odds where you died?” said Doctor Johnson. “If it hadn’t been at St. Helena it would have been somewhere else, and you’d have found death as stuffy in one place as in another.”
“Don’t let’s talk of death,” said Washington. “I am sure the Baron’s tale of how he came to have enough canvas-back is more diverting.”
“I’ve no doubt it is more perverting,” said Johnson.