"I mean," amended Carry-on-Merry, "nobody could be found for the moment of sufficient importance."
"Oh, I see," replied the Griffin, "yet perhaps Boadicea would oblige."
"Out of the question," said Carry-on-Merry. "Besides you know she never takes part in any—any—er—festivities at all."
"True," lamented the Griffin, "and yet assuredly I must be kissed for the thing to be natural."
Carry-on-Merry turned away his head, for Carry-on-Merry almost felt that he could not trust himself to speak at that moment. Then one of his many bright ideas occurred to him. "I know," rapidly explained Carry-on-Merry, "I have it; I will find some important personage present to give you a rap."
"Where?" moaned the Griffin, "not on my knuckles. You know I cannot stand anything of that nature on my knuckles."
"No—no——" grinned Carry-on-Merry. "I mean a tap, just a little tap."
"I see," agreed the Griffin. "Very well, one little tap, a tap as dainty as if a feather had brushed me in my sleep."
"Or a floating piece of thistledown," laughed Carry-on-Merry.
"Oh yes," said the Griffin. "Thistledown sounds more romantic, and then I shall wake from my dream."