Master Jock was sitting in an armchair, with his feet in a large tub of water, chewing a couple of bitter almonds. All this was by way of preparation for the evening's debauch.
"What is your name, little brother?" he inquired of the Whitsun King.
"Michael Kis, at your service, your honour."
"Well, Mike, you are a fine young fellow. You
please me greatly. So now you are going to be Whitsun King for a whole year, eh? What will you do with yourself all that time?"
The youth twisted his blonde moustache upwards, and steadily regarded the ceiling.
"I really don't know. I only know that I shall be a bigger man than ever before."
"And if at the end of the year you are deposed?"
"Then I shall go back to my stable at Nadudvár, from whence I came."
"Have you neither father nor mother?"