“Oh, my God!” Exclaimed GarGar. “This soup is atrocious!” He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, thereby, smearing his makeup.
Queen Pirouette took a dainty sip from her spoon. Not one to lose her composure, her reaction to the concoction was written all over her face. She suppressed the urge to gag. “For once, my dear,” she said, “You are right. Even a vulture wouldn’t eat this!” Twisting to one side in her chair, she motioned to her chamberlain. “Send the royal cook to me at once!”
When the hapless man arrived, he pulled his chef’s hat from his head and bowed very low from the waist. “Your Majesty! How may I serve you?”
“You can begin by explaining how you allowed something this vile to leave your kitchen!” Pirouette waved her hand over the bowl. “Here!” She handed him her spoon. “Try it!” She commanded. Hesitatingly, he took a sip. He instantly put his hand over his mouth, as if to keep from spitting out the noxious liquid. “Tell me, sir. Are you trying to poison us?” In a rare moment of pique, Pirouette raised her voice loudly enough to cause GarGar to start in his chair.
Never one to miss a beat, GarGar’s eyes began to scintillate. “Only the pure of heart can make a good soup,” he said, quoting the great composer.