He made many homes desolate, and wrote Doomsday Book in the year 1087.'" "There!" cried the Conqueror, coming to the rail of the guillotine and striking it in a passion with his gauntlet; "what do you think of that?
_I_ wrote Doomsday Book! It's a lie.

My lords and gentlemen of the jury, I can stand anything else, but when he says I wrote Doomsday Book, I say it's a lie, and I hope to see him hung!" "Hanged," suggested Henry the First.
"All right, all right," said Henry the Eighth, "keep cool, and you shall see him hung, and Henry shall see him hanged.

We'll oblige all parties.
So you mean to say, Willie, you never did such a thing ?" "No, never; I hope I know my place better," said the Conqueror; "and I'm surprised at you for asking such a question." "Got that all down, Nigger ?" asked the judge.
"Yes.

Forge ahead!" said the Black Prince.

"Now we come to the next, `William the Second, surnamed Rufus, shot in the New Forest, by Walter Tyrrell.'" "Eh ?" shouted Rufus, pushing his father aside, and coming to the front.
"What's that?
Me shot by Walter?
Me--" "Do say _I_," suggested Henry the First.
The Red King rounded on him at once.
"Oh!" he cried, "it was you, then, was it?
You're the one that did it! I guessed as much! I knew you were at the bottom of it all along.