The king called for his dancers, he called for the chef. He commanded music, dance and good food. The jester was summoned, banners ordered to put up, instruments to be polished and curtains to be drawn apart. He said, " Let the stars and the moon join us in celebration!"But the food was served simple and plain, brought wafts of burnt bread. The dancers danced not yet stood at a corner clad in black. There were no banners, the instruments- not a glimmer. The curtains drawn. The musicians played the funeral march.
"What is happening?" asked the king.
"A funeral, your majesty," answered a soldier clenching his sword.
"Who's funeral?" he asked yet again.
"Yours, you majesty."
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