are, Pompdebile dear. I know, because
they are connected with your eyebrows. When your feelings go
down, up go your eyebrows, and when your feelings go up, they go
down--always.

POMPDEBILE (_severely_). Where have you been?

VIOLETTA. I, just now?

POMPDEBILE. Just now, when you should have been outside that door
waiting _breathlessly._

VIOLETTA. I was in the garden. Really, Pompy, you couldn't expect
me to stay all day in that ridiculous pantry; and as for being
breathless, it's quite impossible to be it unless one has been
jumping or something.

POMPDEBILE. What were you doing in the garden?

VIOLETTA (_laughing_). Oh, it was too funny. I must tell you. I
found a goat there who had a beard just like the Chancellor's--really
it was quite remarkable, the resemblance--in other ways too. I
took him by the horns and I looked deep into his eyes, and I
said, "Chancellor, if you try to influence Pompy--"

POMPDEBILE (_shouting_). Don't call us Pompy.

VIOLETTA. Excuse me, Pomp--

(_Checking herself._)

KNAVE. And yet I think I remember hearing of an emperor, a great
emperor, named Pompey.

POMPDEBILE. We know him not. Begin at once; the people are
clamoring at the gates. Bring the ingredients.

(_The_ PASTRY COOKS _open the door, and, single file, six little
boys march in, bearing large jars labeled butter, salt, flour,
pepper, cinnamon, and milk. The_ COOKS _place a table and a large
bowl and a pan in front of the_ LADY VIOLETTA _and give her a
spoon. The six little boys stand three on each side._)

VIOLETTA. Oh, what darling little ingredients. May I have an
apron, please?

(URSULA _puts a silk apron, embroidered with red hearts, on the_
LADY VIOLETTA.)

BLUE HOSE. We were unable to find a little boy to carry the
pepper, My Lady. They all _would_ sneeze in such a disturbing
way.

VIOLETTA. This is a perfectly controlled little boy. He hasn't
sneezed once.

YELLOW HOSE. That, if it please Your Ladyship, is not a little
boy.

VIOLETTA. Oh! How nice! Perhaps she will help me.

CHANCELLOR (_severely_). You are allowed no help, Lady Violetta.

VIOLETTA. Oh, Chancellor, how cruel of you. (_She takes up the
spoon, bowing._) Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies of the court, I
propose to make (_impressively_) raspberry tarts.

BLUE HOSE. Heaven be kind to us!

YELLOW HOSE (_suddenly agitated_). Your Majesty, I implore your
forgiveness. There is no raspberry jam in the palace.

POMPDEBILE What! Who is