We must not imagine that the hula was a thing only of kings’ courts and chiefish residences. It had another and democratic side. The passion for the hula was broadspread. If other agencies failed to meet the demand, there was nothing to prevent a company of enthusiasts from joining themselves together in the pleasures and, it might be, the profits of the hula. Their spokesman—designated as the _po’o-puaa_, from the fact that a pig, or a boar’s head, was required of him as an offering at the kuahu—was authorized to secure the services of some expert to be their kumu. But with the hula all roads lead to the king’s court. Let us imagine a scene at the king’s residence. The alii, rousing from his sloth and rubbing his eyes, rheumy with debauch and _awa_, overhears remark on the doings of a new company of hula dancers who have come into the neighborhood. He summons his chief steward. “What is this new thing of which they babble?” he demands. “It is nothing, son of heaven,” answers the kneeling steward. “They spoke of a hula. Tell me, what is it?” “Ah, thou heaven-born (_lani_), it was but a trifle—a new company, young graduates of the halau, have set themselves up as great ones; mere rustics; they have no proper acquaintance with the traditions of the art as taught by the bards of... your majesty’s father. They mouth and twist the old songs all awry, thou son of heaven.” “Enough. I will hear them to-morrow. Send a messenger for this new kumu. Fill again my bowl with awa.” [Page 27] Thus it comes about that the new hula company gains audience at court and walks the road that, perchance, leads to fortune. Success to the men and women of the hula means not merely applause, in return for the incense of flattery; it means also a shower of substantial favors—food, garments, the smile of royalty, perhaps land—things that make life a festival. If welcome grows cold and it becomes evident that the harvest has been reaped, they move on to fresh woods and pastures new.