Amal. Please don't mock me. Say, Fakir, is it so?
Gaffer. Yes, my dear. I as Fakir tell you it is his letter.
Amal. How is it I can't see? It all looks so blank to me. What is there in the letter, Mr. Headman?
Headman. The King says, "I am calling on you shortly; you had better arrange puffed rice offerings for me.—Palace fare is quite tasteless to me now." Ha! ha! ha!
Madhav [With folded palms] I beseech you, headman, don't you joke about these things—
Gaffer. Cutting jokes indeed, dare he!
Madhav. Are you out of your mind too, Gaffer?
Gaffer. Out of my mind, well then I am; I can read plainly that the King writes he will come himself to see Amal, with the state physician.
Amal. Fakir, Fakir, 'sh, his trumpet! Can't you hear?
Headman. Ha! ha! ha! I fear he won't until he's a bit more off his head.