“It’s nearly yuletide” the royal trumpeter exclaimed. “Now who is going to carry the royal horn? The king insists you accompany it with the royal blanket, showing his insignia for all to see.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible”, the royal launderer ran in to say. It’s a fiasco in the royal basement! The woolen blanket shrunk in the royal dryer and the royal crest is too tiny to see!”
“Off with his head!”!
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