(Each places a hand over his heart.)
NOXUS PODUNKUS
(Falling back on seven pillows and taking a deep breath.) Beautiful! Beautiful! Even so! And given as it should be! Let me hear you say that again, my dears and dearesses! Let me hear it again! (They repeat it, waving pink handkerchiefs. The audience bursts into deafening applause lasting seventy-eight minutes. The Loobies and Gaberlunzies leap in the air, turn three somersaults before landing, and fall on their feet. Five thousand wirelesses are sent. NOXUS PODUNKUS, falling back and strangling with joy.) This is too much! Too much! Who can say now that the world has not progressed! (He is lifted up, feathered and doused with souffle.) With the consent of my fellow Moonshees (looks about him affably at the sleeping Moonshees), I will now excuse these very good people. (Feeble calls of “Beautiful! Beautiful!” and “Let them be excused!” from the Moonshees.) You may go, my dears and dearesses! You may go! (He collapses.)
THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DIVISIONS
(Executing a flank movement and assuming an open formation five hundred abreast and marching briskly away, twirling their batons and wagging their heads.) All hail the power of Podunks’ name! (They exit. Enter seven thousand Union Astronomers and four thousand Federated College Philosophers in close formation, all in green knee pants, white spike tailcoats and blue silk hats. The Astronomers carry green telescopes instead of canes. The Philosophers are all chewing tutti-frutti. They are preceded by cage-cars containing each one Specimen of Ossified and Ancient and Unmoral Stoic, Nietzschean, Pragmatist, Anti-Christ, Chemist and Physicist.)
SHISHMASH HASH HASH
(Preceding them and climbing up the feather pole of a Hoddy-Doddy he has seized.) The Union Astronomers, your Referendunces! The Federated College Philosophers, your Referendunces! (He leaps and tumbles three times around the arena, holding his toes with his hands.)
THE ONE HUNDRED HODDY-DODDYS
(Pole-vaulting over the procession as it approaches.) The Union Astronomers, your Referendunces! The Federated Moral College Philosophers! (The Dizzards give an exhibition of feather-club swallowing. The five thousand Nizys each juggle nine ice-cream cones in the air.)