Chapter One
defend himself. Instantly there arose a babble. “It was!” “It wasn’t!” “Was!” Rap, bang, clatter. In a minute they were in a furious argument, not only with words but with spoons, forks and bowls. And dear knows what would have become of the cake had not a bell rung loudly and the second footman poked his head through the door. “The cake! Where is the cakes?” he wheezed importantly. So Eejabo, dodging three cups and a salt cellar, seized the great silver platter and dashed into the great banquet hall. One pink coat tail was missing and his wig was somewhat elevated over the left ear from the lump raised by the pewter mug, but he summoned what dignity he could and joined the grand procession of footmen who were bearing gold and silver dishes filled with goodies for the birthday feast of Prince Pompadore of Pumperdink. The royal guests were already assembled and just as Eejabo entered, the pages blew a shrill blast upon their silver trumpets and the Prime Pumper stepped forward to announce their Majesties. “Oyez! Oyez!” shouted the prime Pumper, pound-
17
