"My stockings are getting tighter.
They used to make wrinkles.

There's the robin, Ben Weatherstaff." There, indeed, was the robin, and she thought he looked nicer than ever.

His red waistcoat was as glossy as satin and he flirted his wings and tail and tilted his head and hopped about with all sorts of lively graces.

He seemed determined to make Ben Weatherstaff admire him.

But Ben was sarcastic.
"Aye, there tha' art!" he said.