"Ma foi! N'est-ce pas que c'est douze heures?"
"Le cuckoo a cuckooé, je suis positive."
"Doris, vous sotte-ane, c'est ma place que vous prendre."
Moods and tenses were blandly ignored at St. Dorothea's outside the actual French class.
"Naw," denied Doris, resolutely blocking the partition wherein she had thrust her own gym shoes. "Je partage cet morceau de le shelf avec Ferlie."
"Mais, avant Ferlie, j'ai avez baggé!"
This last effort could not pass muster even on a Saturday.
"Margery, 'bag' n'est pas Français et c'est argot. Prenez un point de conversation."
"Mais si je fait cela je ne peut pas jouez hockey. Soyez une sport, Mary."
There was an understanding that whosoever lost six marks during the week for failing to observe Rule 9 was relegated to the ranks of the crocodile, with the junior class of all, after lunch, instead of being permitted to join in the usual Saturday games.