At another part of the table, Shrove Tuesday was helping the Second of September to some cock broth,—
which courtesy the latter returned with the delicate thigh of a hen pheasant—so there was no love lost for that matter.
The Last of Lent was spunging upon Shrovetide’s pancakes; which April Fool perceiving, told him he did well, for pancakes were proper to a good fry-day.
In another part a hubbub arose about the Thirtieth of January, who, it seems, being a sour puritanic character, that