Well, there was great rejoicin’ in the coort that the dhraggin was killed; and says the King to the little waiver, says he—
“You are a knight arriant as it is, and so it would be no use for to knight you over agin; but I will make you a lord,” says he “and as you are the first man I ever heer’d tell of that rode a dhraggin, you shall be called Lord Mount Dhraggin’,” says he.
“And where’s my estates, plaze your holiness?” says the waiver, who always had a sharp look-out afther the main chance.
“Oh, I didn’t forget that,” says the King. “It is my royal pleasure to provide well for you, and for that rayson I make you a present of all the dhraggins in the world, and give you power over them from this out,” says he.
“Is that all?” says the waiver.
“All!” says the king. “Why, you ongrateful little vagabone, was the like ever given to any man before?”
“I believe not, indeed,” says the waiver; “many thanks to your majesty.”
“But that is not all I’ll do for you,” says the king, “I’ll give you my daughter, too, in marriage,” says he.
Now, you see, that was nothin’ more than what was promised the waiver in his first promise; for, by all accounts, the King’s daughter was the greatest dhraggin ever was seen.