enormous young uxen, all over gigantic pin-feathers, were wandering
stupidly about. Mounted on one was Sir Peter Grebe, eyes starting from
his apoplectic visage; on the other, clinging to the bird's neck, hung
the Baron de Becasse.

Before I could move, the two remaining eggs burst, and a pair of huge,
scrawny fledglings rose among the débris, bearing off on their backs
the King and Crown-Prince.

"Help!" said the King of Finland, faintly. "I'm falling off!"

I sprang to his aid, but tripped on the curtain-spring. The next
instant the green curtain shot up, and there, revealed to that vast
and distinguished audience, roamed four enormous chicks, bearing on
their backs the most respected and exclusive aristocracy of Europe.

The Countess Suzanne turned with a little shriek of horror, then sat
down in her chair, laid her lovely head on the table, and very quietly
fainted away, unconscious of the frantic cheers which went roaring to
the roof.

* * * * *

This, then, is the _true_ history of the famous exposition scandal.
And, as I have said, had it not been for the presence in that audience
of two American reporters nobody would have known what all the world
now knows--nobody would have read of the marvellous feats of bareback
riding indulged in by the King of Finland--nobody would have read how
Sir Peter Grebe steered his mount safely past the footlights only to
come to grief over the prompter's box.