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THE GYPSY.
We will spare his majesty that annoyance.
I shall be the King’s Gazetteer this morning!

THE MAID.
But how can you?

THE GYPSY.
Leave that to me.

( He takes his position behind the curtains.)

Such news as he has never heard, I shall recite to the King!

THE MAID.
Ssh! Here he comes now!

The King enters, in his dressing gown, yawning, with his

hand over his mouth. In the midst of his yawn, he speaks.

THE KING.
Goo’ mo’ing!

THE MAID.
( bowing )

Good morning, your majesty!

THE KING.
( glancing out at the morning sky )

Looks like a nice day today.

( He sits down.)

THE GYPSY.
( from slightly behind the King’s seat )

Not a cloud in your majesty’s sky!

THE KING.
( twisting about to look at him )

And who the devil are you?

THE GYPSY.
( coming around in front and bowing )

I am the Gazetteer.

THE KING.
( sputtering )

What are you trying to palm off on me? You are not my Gazetteer! My Gazetteer is decently dressed in black and white. You come here in red and yellow. What does it mean?

THE MAID.
Your majesty, your own Gazetteer is ill and cannot come,
so he has sent his cousin, who is in the same business.

THE KING.
( disgustedly )

Bring me my Ka-Fe.

( The maid goes out.)

Now tell me, sirrah, you don’t mean to say that you are used by respectable people as a source of information? I cannot believe it!

THE GYPSY.
Your majesty, it would ill become me to deprecate the character of my clientele. They may not be rich, they may not be influential, but they are the foundation of your kingdom’s prosperity. And I must say for myself that for the one person that your Gazetteer serves, I serve many. You may sneer at my quality if you like, but I point to my circulation. I am the official Gazetteer of the Red-Horse Tavern, and scores of petty tradesmen, as well as clerks, bricklayers and truck drivers, depend upon me for their knowledge of the world’s events.

THE KING.
Well, well! So you are in your humble way an agency of civilization!

THE GYPSY.
Your majesty may well say so!

The maid has returned with the Ka-Fe. She puts the tray on the floor beside the seat, and kneels by it. The King’s cup she places on the stool at his hand.

THE KING.
( sipping his Ka-Fe )

Very well. Proceed.

THE GYPSY.
( reciting )

This is the story of a crime! The shop of the widow Solomon stands in the middle of the great street which takes its name from our King–may he live long and prosper! In that shop are displayed for sale diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and all manner of precious stones, set in rings and chains curiously wrought of silver and gold. And there yesterday came a band of robbers–not in the night, when all men are asleep, and even the watch-dog dozes beside the door– but in the glare of day, intent on wickedness. They entered the shop, and with the threat of death stopped up the mouths of the servitors. Then they filled a large sack with their precious booty, and escaped. They have not been apprehended. This is the sixth in the series of daring daylight robberies that has occurred within the month. The failure of the police to deal with this situation has provoked widespread comment on the incompetency of the King’s Chief of Police, and there are some who assert that the police are in league with the robbers. The magnificent new house which the Chief of Police has been erecting, ostensibly with the money left him by a rich aunt of whom nobody ever heard, seems to lend colour to these–