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I could see the picture she was watchin' on the screen, Royce and a real swell young lady plutess trippin' towards the altar; maybe a crest on the fam'ly note paper. "Oh!" says she. "And he should have the chance, shouldn't he? Well then, he must go. And you can just leave me out." That seemed to settle it, and we was all takin' a deep breath, when Royce steps to the center of the stage.
You wouldn't expect me to pick out the cheap things for a lady plutess from Brazil, would you? So we dallies with Canaps Barbizon, Portage de la Reine, breasts of milk-fed pheasants, and such trifles as that. Bonnie says it's all good. But she can't seem to get used to the band brayin' out impetuous just as she's about to take another bite of something.
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