Alfred jumped up.
“Then it be right and tight seemin’ly?”
Fishpingle looked at him.
“Suppose Sir Geoffrey objected?”
Alfred laughed gaily.
“You can get round un. We all knows that. ’Tis the common sayin’ that you be lard o’ the monor of Nether Applewhite in all but name.”
“Off with you!”
Alfred burst into song.
“And now I’ll marry my own pretty maid,
So handsome, and so cle—ver!”