The Potentate surveyed his creamsicle tower coolly.
Lord Howard stood behind him, rigid, hands neatly behind his back, and cleared his throat. Loudly.
The monarch continued to regard the sweet monstrosity before him.
Finally, Lord Howard stepped forward and addressed his sovereign ruler. "Sire," he said, polite and yet as frigid as the ice-cream on the table. "The people in your kingdom have barely enough to eat, let alone food to play with." His eyes darted to the large dairy-based castle slowly melting onto the linen tablecloth. "If you aren't going to eat your dessert, you shouldn't have taken it."
The five year old dressed in the trappings of wealth and status shifted uncomfortably in his red velvet seat, a look of utmost discontent upon his face.
More tenderly, the Lord took out a silken kerchief and wiped the child's face.