who presently announced it in a loud voice and then
danced with Rosina in triumph.

The four questions and answers were--

Q. A man that was no man--A. An eunuch--

Q. Threw a stone that was no stone--A. A pumice-stone--

Q. At a bird that was no bird--A. A bat--

Q. Sitting on a tree that was no tree--A. An elder-tree.

This being a riddle and in dialect and, moreover, dialect spoken in the
presence of a king, certainly was, or rather was intended to be,
humorous. Nevertheless, King Pharaoh was as little amused as our own
Queen Victoria would have been if Ally Sloper and his companions had been
taken to Windsor to perform in cockney slang before her. Pharaoh had to
sit it out because he was there to see fair play, but he was so bored
that he failed to observe how shamelessly Rosina was cheating; so she won
her cause and danced off with Pasquino.

Turiddu explained to me that elder-trees are in the habit of drying up
and falling down dead, a thing not done by properly conducted trees. I
asked him what all this had to do with the play. He had just bought a
handful of melon seeds from a man who was pushing his way about among the
audience, and was munching them contentedly, not in the least put out by
the course the story had taken. He said we had been witnessing a comic
interlude intentionally introduced to amuse the boys by burlesquing the
situation in the principal story the extreme seriousness of which might
otherwise have depressed them unduly. I had read of such things being
done in mediaeval mystery plays, and here was an instance in my presence
and not as an imitation or resuscitation of a dead archaism but as a
vital growth.

The interlude being over, the original story was resumed. The paladin
and the lady entered, followed by Pharaoh and his prime minister, who had
gone off to make room for the final dance, and lastly, by Samson. The
golden paladin took the stage, winking excessively, and, in a triumphant,
overbearing manner, said--

"What is sweeter than honey? and what is stronger than a lion?"

Samson glared at the lady who ostentatiously shook her head.

"Ha, ha, ha!" jeered the paladin, and Samson covered his face for shame.
The lady continued to shake her head, but, like the lady in another play,
she did protest too much and Samson's suspicions were confirmed. He
exercised great self-control and appealed to Pharaoh, pointing out that
it was absurd to suppose his riddle could