THE MAID. (_bowing_) Good morning, your majesty!

THE KING. (_glancing out at the morning sky_) Looks like a nice day today. (_He sits down_.)

THE GYPSY. (_from slightly behind the King's seat_) Not a cloud in your majesty's sky!

THE KING. (_twisting about to look at him_) And who the devil are you?

THE GYPSY. (_coming around in front and bowing_) I am the Gazetteer.

THE KING. (_sputtering_) What are you trying to palm off on me? You are not my Gazetteer! My Gazetteer is decently dressed in black and white.

You come here in red and yellow. What does it mean?

THE MAID. Your majesty, your own Gazetteer is ill and cannot come, so he has sent his cousin, who is in the same business.

THE KING. (_disgustedly_) Bring me my Ka-Fe. (_The maid goes out_.) Now tell me, sirrah, you don't mean to say that you are used by respectable people as a source of information? I cannot believe it!

THE GYPSY. Your majesty, it would ill become me to deprecate the character of my clientele. They may not be rich, they may not be influential, but they are the foundation of your kingdom's prosperity.

And I must say for myself that for the one person that your Gazetteer serves, I serve many. You may sneer at my quality if you like, but I point to my circulation. I am the official Gazetteer of the Red-Horse Tavern, and scores of petty tradesmen, as well as clerks, bricklayers and truck drivers, depend upon me for their knowledge of the world's events.

THE KING. Well, well! So you are in your humble way an agency of civilization!

THE GYPSY. Your majesty may well say so!

_The maid has returned with the Ka-Fe. She puts the tray on the floor beside the seat, and kneels by it. The King's cup she places on the stool at his hand_.

THE KING. (_sipping his Ka-Fe_) Very well. Proceed.

THE GYPSY. (_reciting_) This is the story of a crime! The shop of the widow Solomon stands in the middle of the great street which takes its name from our King--may he live long and prosper! In that shop are displayed for sale diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and all manner of precious stones, set in rings and chains curiously wrought of silver and gold. And there yesterday came a band of robbers--not in the night, when all men are asleep, and even the watch-dog dozes beside the door-- but in the glare of day, intent on wickedness. They entered the shop, and with the threat of death stopped up the mouths of the servitors.

Then they filled a large sack with their precious booty, and escaped.

They have not been apprehended. This is the sixth in the series of daring daylight robberies that has occurred within the month. The failure of the police to deal with this situation has provoked widespread comment on the incompetency of the King's Chief of Police, and there are some who a.s.sert that the police are in league with the robbers. The magnificent new house which the Chief of Police has been erecting, ostensibly with the money left him by a rich aunt of whom n.o.body ever heard, seems to lend colour to these--

THE KING. What! What! What's this? Why, I never heard such impudence!

Fellow, do you mean to tell me--

_He becomes speechless, and sets down his Ka-Fe_.

THE GYPSY. Your majesty, I have especially softened the wording of this piece of news in order not to offend your majesty's ears. But in substance that is the story which was told last night at every tavern in the city.

THE KING. But, sirrah, I cannot permit--I simply cannot permit--why-- why--!

THE GYPSY. Suppose, your majesty, we skip the police news, and go on to gentler themes.

THE KING. That would be better--much better.

THE GYPSY. Shall we take up--politics?

THE KING. (_wearily_) Oh, yes.

THE GYPSY. (_reciting_) A debate between the rival factions who seek to influence the governing of our kingdom through the so-called Council of Peers was held last night outdoors in the public market. The rival orators exceeded one another in dullness and hoa.r.s.eness. The attendance was very slight. The general public takes little interest in these proceedings, knowing as it does that they are merely a diversion for the scions of old families whose energies are unemployed except in time of war. It is the general feeling, moreover, that the King may be depended upon to govern the kingdom properly without the interference of these aristocratic meddlers.

THE KING. Ah, splendid, splendid! Let us hear that again!

THE GYPSY. A debate between the rival factions--

THE KING. No, no--the last part. That about meddling.

THE GYPSY. It is the general feeling, moreover, that the King may be depended upon to govern the kingdom properly--

THE KING. Without interference from these aristocratic meddlers. Yes, yes! Those are my sentiments exactly. How well put that is--without interference! Ah, it shows that I am appreciated among the lower cla.s.ses. They understand me. What did you say they were? Petty tradesmen and clerks and bricklayers?

THE GYPSY. And truck drivers, your majesty.

THE KING. And truck drivers. Splendid fellows, all of them. As you said--the backbone of my king-dom. I must appoint a royal commission to investigate the welfare of the truck drivers. The Council of Peers will object--but I shall ignore them. Broken-down aristocrats! what do they know about governing a kingdom? They are useful only in war-time.

Fighting is their only talent. In times of peace they are a nuisance. I shall not let them come between me and my people. ... (_He rises, and with a dignified oratorical gesture addresses an imaginary audience_)--Tradesmen! Clerks! Truck drivers! The time has come-- (_He pauses, frowns, and sits down again_.) Never mind that now.

Go on with the news.

THE GYSPY. The rest of the political news is uninteresting, your majesty.

THE KING. It usually is. This is the first time it has ever been otherwise. Turn to something else.

THE GYPSY. I will turn to the society items, your majesty.

THE KING. Good.

THE GYPSY. (_reciting_) All tongues are discussing the approaching nuptials of the King and the Princess of--

THE KING. Tut! tut! I fear this is not a proper topic for--

THE GYPSY. It is a matter of interest to all your subjects, your majesty.

THE KING. Well, well--go on. A public figure like myself must submit to having his private affairs discussed. It is unfortunate, but--go on.

THE GYPSY. (_reciting_)--the approaching nuptials of the King and the Princess of Basque. The details of the royal bride's trousseau are already well known to the public, down to the last garter. The six embroidered chemises from Astrakhan--

_The maid shows great interest. The King is embarra.s.sed_.

THE KING. But, my dear fellow--really, you know--! This is--!

THE GYPSY. Items of this nature, your majesty, are recited in the bazaar to audiences composed exclusively of women. Under the circ.u.mstances there is surely no impropriety--

THE KING. Very well. I accept your explanation. But as your present audience is not composed exclusively of women, I suggest that you omit those details.

THE GYPSY. Your majesty, I omit them. The account continues....

(_Reciting_) The marriage has excellent reasons of state for being made, inasmuch as it cements in friendship two kingdoms which have been at war with each other off and on for a hundred years. But it has its romantic side as well. It is, in fact, a love-match. The fact that the royal lovers have never seen each other only emphasizes its romantic quality. Their joy in beholding in actuality what they have for three long months cherished so dearly in imagination, is a theme for the poet laureate--who will, however, we fear, judging from his past performances, hardly do it justice. It is, as we have said, a love- match. The royal pair fell in love with what they had heard of each other--the Princess of Basque with the image she had formed in her mind from glowing reports of the King's valour, amounting to rashness, his fluency of poetic speech, his manly bearing, and his irrepressible wit.... (_The King nods gravely at each item_.) While the King became madly enamoured of the reputation of the Princess of Basque for sweetness, industry in good works, and the docility which befits a wife, even of a King.... (_The King nods gravely at these items also_.) She is, indeed, a pattern of all the domestic virtues--she is quiet, obedient, dignified--

_There is a cry in a high feminine voice, outside. All look toward the window. A girl appears, running past, with short loose hair tossing about her face. She pauses, and flings herself over the window-ledge, and is standing--panting, red-cheeked, smiling--in the room. The King rises_.

THE KING. (_furious, yet coldly polite_) And who, in the name of the sacred traditions of womanhood, are you?