He meekly submitted to Helbert’s garments being taken from him. He meekly submitted to being dressed in the white, beflounced costume. He remembered to take his two paper bags from the pockets of Helbert’s knickers and tried, unsuccessfully, to find pockets in the costume he was wearing, and finally sat on them. Then, tastefully arrayed as a Fairy Queen, he sat down at the kitchen table to a large plateful of stew. It was delicious stew. William felt amply rewarded for all the indignities to which he was submitting. The servant sat opposite watching him.
“Is all gipsies deaf moots?” she said sarcastically.
“I’m not an ornery gipsy,” said William, without raising his eyes from his plate, or ceasing his appreciative and hearty consumption of Irish stew. “I was stole by the gipsies, I was. I’ve gotter birthmark somewhere where you can’t see it what’ll identify me.”
“Lor!” said the maid.
“Yes, an’ I rec’lect peacocks an’ stachues—an’—folks walkin’ about in crowns.”
“Crikey!” said the maid, filling his plate again with stew.
“Yes,” said William, attacking it with undiminished gusto, “an’ the suit I was wearin’ when they stole me is all embroidered with crowns an’ peacocks an’—an’——”
“An’ stachues, I suppose,” said the servant.
“Yes,” said William absently.
“An’ you was wearin’ silver shoes an’ stockings, I suppose.”