“All right, Pete,” said the farmer, “but what’s the girl’s name?”
“Ann Brown,” replied the darkey.
When the farmer returned that evening he gave the negro his marriage license.
Pete took it and slowly read it over.
“Look heah, Marse Henry, you’se done gone an’ got dis license fer Mary Clarke. I’se gwine t’ marry Ann Brown.”
“I’m sorry, Pete,” the farmer replied, “but never mind; when I go into town again next week I’ll get you another license.”
“What’ll dat cost?” asked Pete.
“One dollar.”
“Lordy, nebber mind, Marse. Dere ain’t a dollar’s wuff ob difference ’tween all de coons on de fa’m.”