At her withdrawal Menna’s disappointment was intense. He sank back deep into his painted cedar chair. For Menna the feast was at an end. But not for the noisy revelers about him. Even the haughty members of the Hittite ambassador’s suite forgot for a moment their lofty attitude of detachment. For the corpulent Mentu, son of the Vizier Kena, had whetted the appetites of these Asiatics. Through the somewhat hesitating medium of a sibilant Canaanitic dialect, the garrulous Mentu had somehow managed to make them understand that the entire kitchen forces of the governor of Thinis and of Hotepra, Prince of On, had been brought upstream to assist the royal cooks. “Indeed,” said Mentu, “though whirling sandstorms bury us; though drought and pestilence stalk the blistered banks of Hapi, yet shall we enjoy the choicest viands, the rarest wines,” he clicked his purple tongue; “wines whose seals have stood intact since good King Ahmes’ time! But, wait until thou seest Nōfert-āri! Breath of Ra! Then shalt thou say, ‘Baal forgive me! Our country is afar off! Between us lies the raging sea! Egypt is a land of pleasure and delight! Here let us tarry!’” And so it proved. For marvel followed marvel with almost bewildering rapidity. A dish that won the plaudits of all was an enormous platter of Syrian craftsmanship. Upon this gold dish, in the midst of gold reeds and papyrus, swam ducks, plover, and other aquatic birds. In a miniature skiff, a diminutive Egyptian boatman propelled his silver craft over perfumed water. An Egyptian noble, standing upright in the bow, aimed a jeweled throw-stick at a flock of egrets which, with wings outspread, quivered upon gold wires high above a thicket of feathery papyrus. The realistic little figures were of pastry, the birds cooked with all their feathers on! Dishes of this sort were countless in number, the design of the last more astonishing than that of the first, since each jealous cook had sought to outshine his rival, both in originality of design and richness of material. But now, at a signal from Pennūt the Usher, Pharaoh rose from the throne and advanced to the edge of the dais. To his feet the Usher led the youthful Ramses. And there, to the accompaniment of a deepening roar of applause from the onlookers, Pharaoh slipped about his victorious general’s neck that coveted distinction of the Egyptian military, the necklace of gold lions and flies. In a brief lull the words of Pharaoh echoed through the resplendent hall: