“No singing `God save the King,’ neither,” said the other belltopperer.  “Let your conduct be noble, and never sing the National Anthem to people wearing bell-toppers.”

“In fact,” said the first bell-topperer, “All we say is, Hand over the Puddin’ with a few well-chosen words, and all ill-feeling will be dropped.”

Bill was so enraged at this suggestion that he dashed his hat on the ground and kicked it to relieve his feelings.  “Law or no law,” he shouted, “I call on all hands to knock them bell-toppers off.”

All hands made a rush for the bell-topperers, who shouted, “An Englishman’s hat is his castle,” and “Top-hats are sacred things;” but they were overpowered by numbers, and their hats were snatched off.  “The puddin’-thieves!” shouted the company.

Those bell-toppers had disguised that snooting, snouting scoundrel, the Possum, and his snoozing, boozing friend the Wombat!  There was an immense uproar over this discovery, Bill and Sam flapping and snout-bending away at the puddin’-thieves, the puddin’thieves roaring for mercy.  Ben denounced them as bag snatchers, and Bunyip Bluegum expressed his indignation in a fine burst of oratory, beginning: 

“Base, indeed, must be those scoundrels, who, lost to all sense of decency and honour, boldly assume the outward semblance of worthy citizens, and, by the pretentious nature of their appearance, not only seek the better to impose upon the noble incredulity of Puddin’-owners, but, with dastardly cunning, strike a blow at Society’s most sacred emblem-the pot-hat.”

The uproar brought the Mayor of Tooraloo hastening to the scene, followed by the local constable.  The Mayor was a little, fat, breathless, beetle-shaped man, who hastened with difficulty owing to his robe of office being trodden on by the Constable, who ran close behind him in order to finish eating a banana in secret.  He had some more bananas in a paper bag, and his face was one of those feeble faces that make one think of eggs and carrots and feathers, if you take my meaning.

“How now, how now!” shouted the Mayor.  “A riot going on here, a disturbance in the town of Tooraloo.  Constable, arrest these rioters and disturbers.”

“Before going to extremes,” said the Constable, in a tremulous voice, “my advice to you is, read the Riot Act, and so have all the honour and glory of stopping the riot yourself.”

“Unfortunately,” said the Mayor, “in the haste of departure, I forgot to bring the Riot Act, so there’s nothing else for it; you must have all the honour and glory of quelling it.”

“The trouble is,” said the Constable, “that there are far too manyrioters.  One would have been quite sufficient.  If there had been only one small undersized rioter, I should have quelled him with the utmost severity.”

“Constable,” said the Mayor, sternly, “in the name of His Majesty the King I call on you to arrest these rioters without delay.”