The One Hundred Zanys
(Dancing on before them and rattling their wind-bags.) The Anti-White-Slavers! The Anti-White-Slavers! Look! Behold!
The Fifty Dizzards
(Beating the Moonshees with feather-clubs and whistling between their teeth.) Awake! Awake! (The Moonshees stir feebly and call for souffle. By the aid of a dozen gallons of ice-water NOXUS PODUNKUS is once more aroused and now surveys the approaching procession, which marches about the arena and back to the Musnud.)