MPDEBILE. Can that be true? Where are her ladies?

KNAVE. They are all there, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Summon one of them.

(THE KNAVE _goes out, shutting the door. He returns, following_
URSULA, _who, very much frightened, throws herself at the_ KING'S
_feet._)

POMPDEBILE. Where is your mistress?

URSULA. She has gone, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Gone! Where has she gone?

URSULA. I do not know, Your Majesty. She was with us a while ago,
waiting there, as you commanded.

POMPDEBILE. Yes, and then--speak.

URSULA. Then she started out and forbade us to go with her.

POMPDEBILE. The thought of possible divorce from us was more than
she could bear. Did she say anything before she left?

URSULA (_trembling_). Yes, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. What was it? She may have gone to self-destruction.
What was it?

URSULA. She said--

POMPDEBILE. Speak, woman, speak.

URSULA. She said that Your Majesty--

POMPDEBILE. A farewell message! Go on.

URSULA (_gasping_). That Your Majesty was "pokey" and that she
didn't intend to stay there any longer.

POMPDEBILE (_roaring_). _Pokey!!_

URSULA. Yes, Your Majesty, and she bade me call her when you
came, but we can't find her, Your Majesty.

(_The_ PASTRY COOKS _whisper._ URSULA _is in tears._)

CHANCELLOR. This should not be countenanced, Your Majesty. The
word "pokey" cannot be found in the dictionary. It is the most
flagrant disrespect to use a word that is not in the dictionary
in connection with a king.

POMPDEBILE. We are quite aware of that, Chancellor, and although
we may appear calm on the surface, inwardly we are swelling,
_swelling_, with rage and indignation.

KNAVE (_looking out the window_). I see the Lady Violetta in the
garden. (_He goes to the door and holds it open, bowing._) The Lady
Violetta is at the door, Your Majesty.

(_Enter the_ LADY VIOLETTA, _her purple train over her arm. She has
been running._)

VIOLETTA. Am I late? I just remembered and came as fast as I
could. I bumped into a sentry and he fell down. I didn't. That's
strange, isn't it? I suppose it's because he stands in one
position so long he--Why, Pompy dear, what's the matter? Oh, oh!
(_Walking closer_) Your feelings are hurt!

POMPDEBILE. _Don't_ call us Pompy. It doesn't seem to matter
to you whether you are divorced or not.

VIOLETTA (_anxiously_). Is that why your feelings are hurt?

POMPDEBILE. Our feelings are not hurt, not at all.

VIOLETTA. Oh, yes, they