The king has enjoyed fine sport; and, indeed, madam, if I may say so for myself, a better run.--" "You may say, friend Simon," interrupted the constable, tapping him on the shoulder, "anything you like for yourself, but, as a matter of etiquette, the king's message should come first." "Oh, ay, Constable," said Simon.

"You're always so down on a man, aren't you?
Well, then, madam, the king has enjoyed fine sport.

For we started a boar at eleven, and--" "Is this the king's message, Simon ?" asked the queen, smiling in genuine amusement, but impatiently.
"Why, no, madam, not precisely his majesty's message." "Then get to it, man, in Heaven's name," growled Sapt testily.

For here were we four (the queen, too, one of us!) on tenterhooks, while the fool boasted about the sport that he had shown the king.

For every boar in the forest Simon took as much credit as though he, and not Almighty God, had made the animal.