Yet this he did, and wonderfully well, as he believed; though Insie only laughed to see him.

For he had on the loveliest gaiters in the world, of thin white buckskin with agate buttons, and breeches of silk, and a long brocaded waistcoat, and a short coat of rich purple velvet, also a riding hat with a gray ostrich plume.

And though he had very little calf inside his gaiters, and not much chest to fill out his waistcoat, and narrower shoulders than a velvet coat deserved, it would have been manifest, even to a tailor, that the boy had lineal, if not lateral, right to his rich habiliments.
Insie of the Gill (who seemed not to be of peasant birth, though so plainly dressed), came gently down the steep brook-side to see what was going to be done for her.
She admired Lancelot, both for bravery of apparel and of action; and she longed to know how he would get a good pitcher of water without any splash upon his clothes.

So she stood behind a little bush, pretending not to be at all concerned, but amused at having her work done for her.
But Pet was too sharp to play cat's-paw for nothing.
"Smile, and say 'thank you,'" he cried, "or I won't do it.

I am not going up to my middle for nothing; I know that you want to laugh at me." "You must have a very low middle," said Insie; "why, it never comes half way to my knees." "You have got no stockings, and no new gaiters," Lancelot answered, reasonably; and then, like two children, they set to and laughed, till the gill almost echoed with them.
"Why, you're holding the mouth of the pitcher down stream!" Insie could hardly speak for laughing.