Transbalkanian." He took up a rich baklava dessert, saturated with honey,
and devoured it.

Josip Pekic and his associates had wondered at some of the
examinations and tests that had been so prevalent of recent date. He
accepted the words of the two Party leaders. Very well, he was the
average of the country's some seventy million population. Well, then?

* * * * *

Number One had pushed himself back in his chair, and Josip was only
mildly surprised to note that the man seemed considerably paunchier
than his photos indicated. Perhaps he wore a girdle in public.

Zoran Jankez took up a paper. "I have here a report from a journalist
of the West who but recently returned from a tour of our country. She
reports, with some indignation, that the only available eyebrow
pencils were to be found on the black market, were of French import,
and cost a thousand dinars apiece. She contends that Transbalkanian
women are indignant at paying such prices."

The Party head looked hopelessly at first Josip and then Kardelj.
"What is an eyebrow pencil?"

Kardelj said, a light frown on his usually easygoing face, "I believe
it is a cosmetic."

"You mean like lipstick?"

Josip took courage. He flustered. "They use it to darken their
eyebrows--women, I mean. From what I understand, it comes and goes in
popularity. Right now, it is ultra-popular. A new, uh, fad originating
in Italy, is sweeping the West."

Number One stared at him. "How do you know all that?" he rasped.

Josip fiddled with the knot of his tie, uncomfortably. "It is probably
in my dossier that I have journeyed abroad on four occasions. Twice to
International Youth Peace Conferences, once as a representative to a
Trades Union Convention in Vienna, and once on a tourist vacation
guided tour. On those occasions I ... ah ... met various young women
of the West."

Kardelj said triumphantly, "See what I mean, Zoran? This comrade is
priceless."

Jankez looked at his right-hand man heavily. "Why, if our women desire
this ... this eyebrow pencil nonsense, is it not supplied them? Is
there some ingredient we do not produce? If so, why cannot it be
imported?" He picked at his uneven teeth with a thumbnail.

Kardelj held his lean hands up, as though in humorous supplication.
"Because, Comrade, to this point we have not had expediters to find
out such desires on the part of women comrades."

Number One grunted. He took up another report. "H