A Festive Day

"Everything's ready, sirs," said Enid. "I'll just go and change me apron and put on me best blouse before the guests begin to arrive."

"Thanks awfully, Enid," said Mr Foxe. "It all looks absolutely scrummy. Right royal, in fact."

"You're most welcome, sir," said Enid. "And me sister Ada is too pleased you've invited her to the big do as well."

"Hang on," said Mr Boxe, scrutinizing the table. "What about the Coronation Chicken? Where's it hiding?"

"About that, sir..." said Enid.

"Yes?" said Mr Boxe. 

"Well, we will 'ave Coronation Chicken only it won't be exactly that."

"What will it be, then?" said Mr Boxe. "Some other kind of chicken?"

"Some other kind of Coronation," said Enid. "You see, I was telling the menu to Miss Pond and she come over all funny, on account of she 'as good friends who is chickens."

"Ah, I see."

"So I took the liberty and made a substitution."

"And now we are having–?"

"Coronation Worms, sir."

"Worms?"

"Worms, sir. With a bit of grasshopper wot I find gives it a nice croonch."

"Egad."

"It seemed unkind, sir, to spoil Miss Pond's fun at the party."

"You did absolutely right, Enid," said Mr Foxe.

"Worms," said Mr Boxe faintly.

"You've rolled in worse," said Mr Foxe. "Come to that, you've eaten worse. The stories I could tell..."

"Pas devant la domestique," said Mr Boxe.

"I'm leaving anyway," said Enid. "And when you've finished telling ring the bell so I know the coast is clear."