“Come, Fool, entertain your king,” the chancellor instructed, pushing the jester forward, keen to raise the king’s spirits before requesting yet more money. The jester shook his sceptre. Bells jingling, he whispered to the grotesque atop.
“What nonsense is this you speak to your puppet?” the king enquired.
“I remind him who is master and who is the marotte,” the jester said.
“Lest the puppet becomes the puppeteer,” the jester replied, bowing courteously.
The king wafted the chancellor away and turned to the jester. “Sometimes a king may be a fool,” he said, “but you, Fool, are never so.”