that they lose their
balance, but they quickly scramble to their feet again_).

YELLOW HOSE. Your Majesty, there are no tarts there!

BLUE HOSE. Your Majesty, the tarts have gone!

VIOLETTA (_clasping her hands_). Gone! Oh, where could they have
gone?

POMPDEBILB (_coming down from throne_). That is impossible.

PASTRY COOKS (_greatly excited_). You see, you see, the oven is
empty as a drum.

POMPDEBILE (_to_ VIOLETTA). Did you go out of this room?

VIOLETTA (_wailing_). Only for a few minutes, Pompy, to powder my
nose before the mirror in the pantry. (_To_ PASTRY COOKS) When one
cooks one becomes so disheveled, doesn't one? But if I had
thought for one little minute--

POMPDEBILE (_interrupting_). The tarts have been stolen!

VIOLETTA (_with a shriek, throwing herself on a chair_). Stolen!
Oh, I shall faint; help me. Oh, oh, to think that any one would
take my delicious little, my dear little tarts. My salts. Oh! Oh!

(PASTRY COOKS _run to the door and call._)

YELLOW HOSE. Salts! Bring the Lady Violetta's salts.

BLUE HOSE. The Lady Violetta has fainted!

(URSULA _enters hurriedly bearing a smelling-bottle._)

URSULA. Here, here--What has happened? Oh, My Lady, my sweet
mistress!

POMPDEBILE. Some wretch has stolen the tarts.

(LADY VIOLETTA _moans._)

URSULA. Bring some water. I will take off her headdress and bathe
her forehead.

VIOLETTA (_sitting up_). I feel better now. Where am I? What is the
matter? I remember. Oh, my poor tarts!

(_She buries her face in her hands._)

CHANCELLOR (_suspiciously_). Your Majesty, this is very strange.

URSULA (_excitedly_). I know, Your Majesty. It was the Knave. One
of the Queen's women, who was walking in the garden, saw the
Knave jump out of this window with a tray in his hand. It was the
Knave.

VIOLETTA. Oh, I don't think it was he. I don't, really.

POMPDEBILE. The scoundrel. Of course it was he. We shall banish
him for this or have him _beheaded._

CHANCELLOR. It should have been done long ago, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. You are right.

CHANCELLOR. Your Majesty will never listen to me.

POMPDEBILE. We _do_ listen to you. Be quiet.

VIOLETTA. What are you going to do, Pompy, dear?

POMPDEBILE. Herald, issue a proclamation at once. Let it be known
all over the Kingdom that I desire that the Knave be brought here
dead or alive. Send the royal detectives and policemen in every
direction.

CHANCELLOR. Excellent; just what I should have