assented to this ambitious request, perhaps prompted by the
exhibition-minded Albert. The publicity-seeking cheesemongers assured
Her Majesty that the gift would be returned to her just as soon as it
had been exhibited. But the Queen didn't want it back after it was
show-worn. The donors began to quarrel among themselves about what to
do with the remains, until finally it got into Chancery where so many
lost causes end their days. The cheese was never heard of again.

While it is generally true that the bigger the cheese the better,
(much the same as a magnum bottle of champagne is better than a pint),
there is a limit to the obesity of a block, ball or brick of almost
any kinds of cheese. When they pass a certain limit, they lack
homogeneity and are not nearly so good as the smaller ones. Today a
good magnum size for an exhibition Cheddar is 560 pounds; for a prize
Provolone, 280 pounds; while a Swiss wheel of only 210 will draw
crowds to any food-shop window.

Yet by and large it's the monsters that get into the Cheese Hall of
Fame and come down to us in song and story. For example, that four-ton
Toronto affair inspired a cheese poet, James McIntyre, who doubled as
the local undertaker.

We have thee, mammoth cheese,
Lying quietly at your ease;
Gently fanned by evening breeze,
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the greatest provincial show,
To be admired by many a beau