She. They'd have to set another here—some Minikin, I'm assured!
He. Why do you chatter so, prattle so?
She. Because of my doubt—because I'm as positive as I am that I sit here with my knees in a knot—that that human creature—loves you.
He. Loves me?
She. And you her!
He. Minikin!
She. When she takes us down she holds you much longer.
He. Minikin!
She. I'm sufficiently feminine—and certainly old enough—I and my hundred and seventy years—I can see, I can feel by her manner of touching me and her flicking me with her mop—the creature hates me—she'd like to drop me, that's what she would!
He. Minikin!