There was a dance by Kibei, drinking as substitutes of the absent, and competition in uta (poetry).
He cared nothing for the scowls of Kibei nor the wrath of Kwaiba.
The words of Kibei came between his teeth, half growl, half snarl.
Kibei came forth from the supper room, to find his guests all flown.
Kibei sullenly read these lines; cursing Kwaiba and cursing himself.
