The troublesomest old sow of the lot had to be called my Lady, and your Highness, like the rest.

It is annoying and difficult to scour around after hogs, in armor.

There was one small countess, with an iron ring in her snout and hardly any hair on her back, that was the devil for perversity.

She gave me a race of an hour, over all sorts of country, and then we were right where we had started from, having made not a rod of real progress.
I seized her at last by the tail, and brought her along squealing.
When I overtook Sandy she was horrified, and said it was in the last degree indelicate to drag a countess by her train.
We got the hogs home just at dark--most of them.

The princess Nerovens de Morganore was missing, and two of her ladies in waiting: namely, Miss Angela Bohun, and the Demoiselle Elaine Courtemains, the former of these two being a young black sow with a white star in her forehead, and the latter a brown one with thin legs and a slight limp in the forward shank on the starboard side--a couple of the tryingest blisters to drive that I ever saw.