RY COOKS _in flaring
white caps and spotless aprons leaning over in stiff profile,
their wooden spoons, three feet long, pointing rigidly to the
ceiling. They are in one of the kitchens of_ POMPDEBILE THE
EIGHTH, KING OF HEARTS. _It is a pleasant kitchen, with a row of
little dormer windows and a huge stove, adorned with the crest of_
POMPDEBILE--_a heart rampant, on a gold shield._)

THE MANAGER. You see here, ladies and gentlemen, two pastry cooks
belonging to the royal household of Pompdebile the Eighth--Blue
Hose and Yellow Hose, by name. At a signal from me they will
spring to action, and as they have been made with astonishing
cleverness, they will bear every semblance of life. Happily,
however, you need have no fear that, should they please you, the
exulting wine of your appreciation may go to their heads--their
heads being but things of wire and wood; and happily, too, as
they are but wood and wire, they will be spared the shame and
humiliation that would otherwise be theirs should they fail to
meet with your approval.

The play, most honored ladies and gentlemen, will now begin.

(_He claps his hands. Instantly the two_ PASTRY COOKS _come to life._
THE MANAGER _bows himself off the stage._)

BLUE HOSE. Is everything ready for this great event?

YELLOW HOSE. Everything. The fire blazing in the stove, the
Pages, dressed in their best, waiting in the pantry with their
various jars full of the finest butter, the sweetest sugar, the
hottest pepper, the richest milk, the--

BLUE HOSE. Yes, yes, no doubt. (_Thoughtfully_) It is a great
responsibility, this that they have put on our shoulders.

YELLOW HOSE. Ah, yes. I have never felt more important.

BLUE HOSE. Nor I more uncomfortable.

YELLOW HOSE. Even on the day, or rather the night, when I awoke
and found myself famous--I refer to the time when I laid before
an astonished world my creation, "Humming birds' hearts souffle,
au vin blanc"--I did not feel more important. It is a pleasing
sensation!

BLUE HOSE. I like it not at all. It makes me dizzy, this eminence
on which they have placed us. The Lady Violetta is slim and fair.
She does not, in my opinion, look like the kind of person who is
capable of making good pastry. I have discovered through long
experience that it is the heaviest women who make the lightest
pastry, and _vice versa._ Well, then, suppose that she does
not pass this examination--suppose that her pastry is lumpy,
white like the skin