The King is in his chamber. Enter page
Page: Good my leige?
King: Ah, Dickon, send to the kitchen and bring quickly some victuals for verily
I faint for lack of sustenance. Good beef I require, and a trencher.
Page: At once sire (makes to leave, turns at the door) Sire, permit my words?
King: Speak boy
Page: On mine own discovery, there is, in the town, beneath those arches which do
lead to Goldgate, a man of Scots descent whose reputation rests in offering such provisions as thou dost seek.
King: Art thou mad? To my kitchen on the instant.
Page: (kneeling) Crave pardon lord until I do complete my story.
King: Go to then and with speed ere I fail from starvation.
Page: Sire, this very thing do I seek to avoid. For were I to run hence to the
kitchen and ask of cook a repast, it would be choosing, chopping, seeking herbs and spice and looking this way and that and
ere the board were laid thou wouldst indeed expire from hunger. But if instead, my time I do employ in making to the Scot,
whose victuals are ready prepared, I would return in less time than the twinkling of an eye.
King: With hearty spread, good beef and golden bread?
Page: Aye my leige, thus on his reputation does this lie, and within his house
a pledge, that if from the very moment of request the victuals take more than one thousands heart beats to prepare, he forfeits
King: What so? Go hither then page and seek the Scot, thy story is well.
Exit Page to McDonalds.