“If I don’t stand my own ground,” I murmured in dismay and frustration, “how can I find my way out of this maize?”
“And what’s more—if I don’t eat my bread, how can I have any cake? How, for Chrustchov’s sake, can I have any cake, if I don’t eat my bread??”
“Relax, man” said pretty little voice from somewhere above, “You surely can have your cake, and you can eat it, too. Just as soon as you want it.”
It was not the voice of an ordinary walking girl from the streets of Laredo, but at least of the French Queen herself, the spouse of Louis the Sun King.
“Questo obrigado!” I replied, in great disarray, “Tanto mucho cake and eat it carousel!”