Watch the drama while it unfolds. For weary months the men who are struggling with nature toil early and late, pit their skill against all the forces that oppose them, endure the droughts and storms and struggle against all the chances that might defeat them in producing the world's food. They are too busy to watch the drama. Often they are too busy for thought. All of them have hopes that may be fulfilled if the crops are good--little hopes compared with those of the men who are waiting in the wings for their cues. If things turn out well they may be able to put by something for the future, enjoy an excursion out into the amazing world, indulge in some coveted luxury or improve their homes and farms. But most of them will have to be satisfied with ordinary food, shelter, and clothing--just sufficient to carry them and their families through the winter until the great drama is staged again. But before they are sure of anything they must gather in their harvest and market it. Now begins the joyous comedy--the uproarious fun. The banks provide the counters--money--for "moving the crops." Loans are repaid to them with interest, and they thrive. Transportation companies, almost all built by the money of the people, though not owned by them, move the crops--and there is a golden stream of dividends. Middlemen, as "efficient" as pickpockets, handle the food of the world over and over, and at every turn profits are made. But it would be impossible in a brief review to trace the food from the farm to the table of that other poor dupe, the city laboring man. It reaches his table finally at famine prices. His food is assured and the great comedy of life can proceed. The profit gatherers, who work with the villain of the piece, Uncontrolled Capital, have their wealth as well as their food supply renewed, and they can revel and riot. All the arts flourish and the cities grow proud. The world is safe for another year, and then the performance will be repeated as it has been since the world began.