NOBLE KING ARTHUR, we welcome you at this Diablo gathering. You come to us from our Mother Country, which is rich with the stories of your chivalrous deeds, and so we claim you a certain kinship. This land and its people will seem wondrous strange to you. To your eyes, which reveal the wisdom of the ages, we shall seem young, crude, and ofttimes savage. Try, O King, to learn our ways, and look into our hearths that you may judge us by what you find there. Give us leave to read your heart and there find inspiration for our future lives.

To honor you, O noble King, we have decreed a festival. The worthy members of our faculty have for this season ceased their joyful task of adding to our country's wisdom and have graciously given to those who attend this seat of culture a glorious holiday. It is thus, O King, we give honor to our heroes.

Our August Council has given countless badges termed "official" and has decreed that everywhere the guardians of the law shall wink at those who part their cars in zones forbidden. Dame Hereth, Mistress of the Kitchen, long has pondered over menus and the varlets in camp cookery have prepared for you delicious food. Discussions have been long and serious regarding who shall have the honored seats. This has at last been settled by our class in Civics, which has said that in cases such as this the World Court shall decide.

We have planned for you a mighty tournament. To the jousting you shall goo in horseless carriage. Great Jensen shall sit beside you, and preceding you shall go our noble Band, guided by the doughty Hicks, with baton poised aloft.

To the strains of martial music you will be escorted to our bleachers which Coach Pete Kramer and his [stalwart] henchmen have erected. Here upon Diablo's field you will see a mighty contest fought by warriors clad in padded armor.

About you on the bleachers you will hear the roar of voices urging warriors on to battle. If you fall beneath the bleachers, enthusiastic rooters will drag you out and cheer you, clutching at your princely doublet. They, with friendly zeal, will whack you, and with generous hearts will give you many sticks of Wrigley's product, which with its juices will revive you. It is with this our warriors exercise their jaws and renew their strength and vigor.

If your spirit faints and longs for ancient Mead Hall, - in an open air pavilion, maidens of the tribe Nissaki will revive you with "hot dogs," chews, and soda pop.

Now, O King, we ask you to enjoy this evening with us. Deem us not, Great Arthur, a thoughtless, laughter-loving people whose "sense of humor outweighs our sense of reverence," for beneath the laugh, and mingled with it, is a real desire to "Speak true, live pure, right wrong, and follow the King."

Diablo students, I propose this toast: His Majesty the King!

BERTHA ROMAINE

From Miss Romaine's personal copy of the King Arthur-themed 1929 yearbook, The Diablo.