“A slavish concern for the composition of words is the sign of a bankrupt intellect,” roared the Humbug, waving his cane furiously.
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"But that's just as bad," protested Milo.
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"Dig in," said the king, poking Milo with his elbow and looking disapprovingly at his plate. "I can't say that I think much of your choice."
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"Don't say it," ghasped the dog, and Milo could see a tear well up in his eye.
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“Good,” said the judge, rapping his gavel three times. “I always have trouble remembering the long ones. How about ‘I am’? That’s the shortest sentence I know.”
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"I never knew words could be so confusing," Milo said to Tock as he bent down to scratch the dog's ear.
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"SILENCE," suggested the King. "Now, young man, what can you do to entertain us? Sing songs? Tell stories? Compose sonnets? Juggle plates? Do tumbling tricks? Which is it?"
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"They're very tasty," explained the Humbug, "but they don't always agree with you. Here's one that's very good." He handed it to Milo and, through the icing and nuts, Milo saw that it said "THE EARTH IS FLAT."
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"Why, my cabinet members can do all sorts of things. The duke here can make mountains out of molehills. The minister splits hairs. The count makes hay while the sun shines. The earl leaves no stone unturned. And the undersecretary," he finished ominously, "hangs by a thread."
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"You're on the Island of Conclusions."
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"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."
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