The tall doors swung open and tall footmen stood aside to let an innumerable swarm of pigmies enter. Each was striving with his neighbour and trying to enter first, and so they rushed helter-skelter, and screaming in wild fury towards the throne. The first to get upon the lower step was a man, but a woman going by leaps and bounds outreached him. Then a mad onrush brought many to the third step all together. They strove, and pushed, and fought, and tore, and the woman who had done so well got thrust right back. But another woman, seizing the opportunity, made a sudden dive—and yes, she was seated on the throne, right in the very centre. On this there was a sudden silence, and instead of pushing forward they began pushing backward, trying to push each other off the steps and into line. “I’m first,” shouted one. “I’m second,” cried another. “No. I am.” But with much arguing and hard blows, in which the weaker always were pushed back, they came to silent order. Then she who sat upon the throne turned to the first man on the right and said, in a very matter-of-fact tone,— “Now make haste with the ointment. I only want a little on my head. If you let it run down my back I’ll slap your face.” So the ointment was brought, and such a threat naturally made him careful. He certainly let two drops fall on to her shoulder, but she only wriggled and muttered something about a “clumsy fool.” Presently they all went out backward, as the tall footman announced that there was to be a reception later, to which all were invited who had lived fairly respectable lives in the past, for this was the next best thing to a sacrament; indeed, much better, for here they saw, and there they didn’t. Last of all the queen went out, and the last six people on either side stayed behind and followed her. Once more we were left alone, but my attention was attracted by hearing a whimper near me. On looking round I saw the woman who had just missed the throne. Plucritus looked as well. And when he saw her he called out, “What’s the matter?” “She’s got my place, and it isn’t fair.” “You should have made more haste.” “I did. But they pulled me back.” “Well, never mind. You got there last time, didn’t you?” “Yes.” And she fell to crying louder. “Cheer up,” said he, patting her head. “Go and get dressed and you shall be the prettiest.” At this she dried her eyes. “Will the queen be jealous of me?” “Yes, if you like.” “Will her husband fall in love with me?” He laughed. “Much will have more,” he returned. By his tone she took it for granted that she should have her way, and skipped about in glee, and kissed his hand just as a little dog might lick it, and gambolled off. “You don’t keep up much state,” I remarked to him. “We don’t need to—we are, what do you call it? Almighty—that’s the word.” In an incredibly short time the doors were once again flung open and powdered footmen walked about the chamber, putting it all in readiness.