when nought my prowes? who expoused that havenliness to beacha- lured ankerrides when not in that jackabox that minute, or wield or wind (no thanks t’yous I) the inexousthausthible wassail- hom tot of all the flowers of narcosis fourfettering his footlights, a halohedge of wild thyme and two’s behind their dream of sport ’tis right That youth bedower’d to charm them to, Madama, do say? Cinderynelly angled her slipper; it was the