"Thtuck-up cat, my dear 'Awwee!" sez Lil.
"Well," sez I, "she may be a Princess,
As a lot o' them hexercise here. Lydy B.
and a young Marcherness
Do paternise Battersea Park on a bike;
leastways so I've bin told;
And the breakfusts and five-o'clock teas give
by dooks is a sight to behold."
"Garn, 'Awwee," snigs Lil, "you're a
kiddin'. But, thithorth! it ith a rum thing.