But we, gentlemen and thrice-honored ladies, flounder about in a tangled net of prejudice, of intrigue. We are blinded by conventions, we are crushed by misunderstanding, we are distracted by violence, we are deceived by hypocrisy, until only too often villains receive the rewards of nobility and the truly great-hearted are suspected, distrusted, and maligned. And so, ladies and gentlemen, for the sake of justice and also, I dare to hope, for your approval, I have taken my puppets down from their dusty shelves. I have polished their faces, brushed their clothes, and strung them on wires, so that they may enact for you this history. (_He parts the curtains, revealing two_ PASTRY COOKS _in flaring white caps and spotless aprons leaning over in stiff profile, their wooden spoons, three feet long, pointing rigidly to the ceiling. They are in one of the kitchens of_ POMPDEBILE THE EIGHTH, KING OF HEARTS. _It is a pleasant kitchen, with a row of little dormer windows and a huge stove, adorned with the crest of_ POMPDEBILE--_a heart rampant, on a gold shield._) THE MANAGER. You see here, ladies and gentlemen, two pastry cooks belonging to the royal household of Pompdebile the Eighth--Blue Hose and Yellow Hose, by name. At a signal from me they will spring to action, and as they have been made with astonishing cleverness, they will bear every semblance of life. Happily, however, you need have no fear that, should they please you, the exulting wine of your appreciation may go to their heads--their heads being but things of wire and wood; and happily, too, as they are but wood and wire, they will be spared the shame and humiliation that would otherwise be theirs should they fail to meet with your approval. The play, most honored ladies and gentlemen, will now begin. (_He claps his hands. Instantly the two_ PASTRY COOKS _come to life._ THE MANAGER _bows himself off the stage._) BLUE HOSE. Is everything ready for this great event? YELLOW HOSE. Everything. The fire blazing in the stove, the Pages, dressed in their best, waiting in the pantry with their various jars full of the finest butter, the sweetest sugar, the hottest pepper, the richest milk, the-- BLUE HOSE. Yes, yes, no doubt. (_Thoughtfully_) It is a great responsibility, this that they have put on our shoulders. YELLOW HOSE. Ah, yes. I have never felt more important. BLUE HOSE. Nor I more uncomfortable. YELLOW HOSE. Even on the day, or rather the night, when I awoke and found myself famous--I refer to the time when I laid before an astonished world my creation, "Humming birds' hearts souffle, au vin blanc"--I did not feel more important. It is a pleasing sensation!