Constructing the pleasure-dome turns out to be a serious hassle because dome technology hasn’t yet escaped the Middle East. They get a pleasure-yurt instead.

“It is a big yurt,” says Kazekami Kyoko.

“It’s not ten miles around, is it!” rages Kublai Khan. “We couldn’t even fit a single incense-bearing tree!”

“What about that one?”

“That’s a tea bag tied to a stick!”

“Let me get out the dulcimer,” she says. “A singalong will help you feel better.”

“You’re killing me,” he groans.

“War brewing,” tuts his grandmother to herself, knitting away at a yurt cover for the winter.