And…begin.
"Forgive me, my Royal Hutchiness," you say to the daughter, stifling a yawn as you bow. "I was up into the wee hours helping my cousin, the shepherd. Do you know my cousin?"
She blinks at you, rubbing her arm with her hand. "No…."
You frown. "I'm surprised, he's out-standing in his field. But no matter, no matter," you continue, noting as a handful of others stop behind the Hutchins trio to listen. "I was in the mountains with him all last night because his prize milk cows broke their ties and fled, somewhere up there."
"Oh my," she says, smiling uncertainly.
"'Oh my, I'm in trouble,'" you repeat in a forlorn voice, "that's what he said on the mountain last night. 'I'm really up the peak without my cattle.'"
Young Mistress Hutchins is a perfect foil as you continue, stifling laughter and striving for dignity as her siblings giggle at either hip, no help at all.
About a dozen people have stopped at your pungent corner to see why everyone else has stopped. Your countless hours spent twisting and turning words in your head seem to have amounted to something; they don't mind listening to you talk. [+Wit]
Onward