CHAPTER EIGHT
JUST prior to the hour of the matutinal sausage in Marken, on the following morning, those who strolled sleepily out into the narrow streets and observed that the sun had been up several hours, found a topic for conversation. Notices had been posted in the night-time on the doorways of churches, lamp posts, and pillar boxes, and sometimes over the billboards where gay posters advised people to use Schmitt's soap; to feed their dogs on torox, or to drink that most soothing of all liqueurs, Ron Bacardi. Languidly these were read and a mild flutter ensued that caused many to forget—almost to forget—that the sausage hour was due.
The notices were printed in plain white, with plain type, and plainly stated that His Gracious and Benign Majesty, Karl II, King of Marken, by Divine Right, had, in the interests of the great kingdom, seen fit to exercise his august prerogative of forming a new ministry, in the confident belief that his subjects and the welfare of the state would thereby be benefited, Baron Matilda, etc., etc., Provarsk was now the chancellor of the realm, succeeding Baron, etc., etc., Von Glutz.
