Nell: David is upstairs trying to fit into Poppy’s bed.
Me: I wonder why.
Nell: He’s the Mayor of Kingsbridge. He can’t be squeezing himself into tiny beds.
Me: He isn’t the mayor though, is he?
Nell: A mayor needs to have presence and flair.
Me: I know you’re ignoring me.
Nell: Nobody wants a shrinking mayor.
Me: It’s a crisis of confidence, This whole mayor thing is causing him unnecessary stress.
Nell: My friend Dorothy said the Whippets Institute are in quite a state about the cake competition.
Me: Why?
Nell: The decision to let David judge has not been universally welcomed.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: Word has it that Pamela is deeply offended.
Me: Pamela the Pyrenean Mountain Dog?
Nell: Yes, she judged it last year.
Me: Is her nose out of joint?
Nell: We’re talking cakes here not noses.
Me: Never mind.
Nell: Pamela says she might not even go to the Village Fair.
Me: That’s just cutting off her nose to spite her face.
Nell: You’re talking about noses again.
Me: I can see why Pamela is upset. Could she and Dave judge together?
Nell: It’s a thought.
Me: Maybe Dave doesn’t like being so big. Maybe he wishes he was small like Poppy.
Nell: Well, he isn’t. And Poppy is only small in stature.
Me: I wonder if I would see life differently if I was a tall person.
Nell: That’s something we’ll never know.
Me: Imagine looking down at everything from a lofty height.
Nell: I’m fine as I am, thank you.
Me: Yes. It’s what makes you so wise.
Nell: David would be wise to get out of Poppy’s bed. She likes a short nap after breakfast.
Me: Poor darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy. All big and bedless.
Nell: Do stop.
Me: Sorry.
