And, from across the square, five very tall, thin gentlemen regally dressed in silks and satins, plumed hats, and buckled shoes rushed up to the car, stopped short, mopped five brows, caught five breaths, unrolled five parchments, and began talking in turn.
“Greetings!”
“Salutations!”
“Welcome!”
“Good afternoon!”
“Hello!”
Milo nodded his head, and they went on, reading from their scrolls.
“By order of Azaz the Unabridged –”
“King of Dictionopolis –”
“Monarch of letters –”
“Emperor of phrases, sentences, and miscellaneous figures of speech –”
“We offer you the hospitality of our kingdom.”
“Country,”
“Nation,”
“State,”
“Commonwealth,”
“Realm,”
“Empire,”
“Palatinate,”
“Principality.”
“Do all those words mean the same thing?” gasped Milo.
“Of course.”
“Certainly.”
“Precisely.”
“Exactly.”
“Yes,” they replied in order.
“Well, then,” said Milo, not understanding why each one said the same thing in a slightly different way, “wouldn’t it be simpler to use just one? It would certainly make more sense.”
“Nonsense.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Fantastic.”
“Absurd.”
“Bosh,” they chorused again, and continued.
“We’re not interested in making sense; it’s not our job,” scolded the first.
“Besides,” explained the second, “one word is as good as another – so why not use them all?”
“Then you don’t have to choose which one is right,” advised the third.
“Besides,” sighed the fourth, “if one is right, then ten are ten times as right.”
“Obviously you don’t know who we are,” sneered the fifth. And they presented themselves one by one as:
“The Duke of Definition.”
“The Minister of Meaning.”
“The Earl of Essence.”
“The Count of Connotation.”
“The Under-secretary of Understanding.”
Milo acknowledged the introduction and, as Tock growled softly, the minister explained.
“We are the king’s advisers, or, in more formal terms, his cabinet.”
“Cabinet,” recited the duke: “(1) a small private room or closet, case with drawers, etc., for keeping valuables or displaying curiosities; (2) council room for chief ministers of state; (3) a body of official advisers to the chief executive of a nation.”
“You see,” continued the minister, bowing thankfully to the duke, “Dictionopolis is the place where all the words in the world come from. They’re grown right here in our orchards.”
“I didn’t know that words grew on trees,” said Milo timidly.
“Where did you think they grew?” shouted the earl irritably. A small crowd began to gather to see the little boy who didn’t know that letters grew on trees.
“I didn’t know they grew at all,” admitted Milo even more timidly. Several people shook their heads sadly.
“Well, money doesn’t grow on trees, does it?” demanded the count.
“I’ve heard not,” said Milo.
“Then something must. Why not words?” exclaimed the under-secretary triumphantly. The crowd cheered his display of logic and continued about its business.
“To continue,” continued the minister impatiently. “Once a week by Royal Proclamation the word market is held here in the great square and people come from everywhere to buy the words they need or trade in the words they haven’t used.”
“Our job,” said the count, “is to see that all the words sold are proper ones, for it wouldn’t do to sell someone a word that had no meaning or didn’t exist at all. For instance, if you bought a word like ghlbtsk, where would you use it?”
“It would be difficult,” thought Milo – but there were so many words that were difficult, and he knew hardly any of them.
“But we never choose which ones to use,” explained the earl as they walked towards the market stalls, “for as long as they mean what they mean to mean we don’t care if they make sense or nonsense.”
“Innocence or magnificence,” added the count.
“Reticence or common sense,” said the under-secretary.
“That seems simple enough,” said Milo, trying to be polite.
“Easy as falling off a log,” cried the earl, falling off a log with a loud thump.
“Must you be so clumsy?” shouted the duke.
“All I said was—” began the earl, rubbing his head.
“We heard you,” said the minister angrily, “and you’ll have to find an expression that’s less dangerous.”
The earl dusted himself, as the others snickered audibly.
“You see,” cautioned the count,
