Книга только для ознакомления
. A matronly looking kender angrily shook a floury rolling pin at
a red-faced child, whom she held by his pointed ear. While Metwinger
watched, another kender, probably in his mid-fifties and looking
strangely content, straggled in and sat quietly. Behind him came two
attractively dressed, angry-eyed misses, clomping and bobbing
awkwardly, since each wore one of an obvious pair of red shoes.
Metwinger couldn't wait to hear their story.
"This Audience is now in session," the mayor proclaimed, giving
the table another rap with his gavel.
"Who's first, then, hmmm?" he asked eagerly.
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Us!"
"Them!"
"I'll take the two with the cow first," Mayor Metwinger
instructed. The others sat down with grumbles and thinly veiled
comments about the mayor's mother.
The two farmers stepped forward respectfully, both insisting on
keeping a hand on the cow's collar. They introduced themselves as
Digger Dunstan and Wembly Cloverleaf.
"You see, Your Honor, Dorabell is mine --" Digger began.
"Bossynova is mine, Digger Dunstan, and you know it!" the other
protested, giving the cow's collar a possessive tug. "Dorabell -- what
a silly name for a cow! And take that stupid hat off her! She prefers
feathers tucked behind her ears!"
"Well, you should know about stupid, Wembly Clo verleaf," the
first taunted, "you lame-brained, drainbrained excuse for a farmer.
You borrowed her from my field --"
"Only after you took her from mine!"
"Did not, you oaf!"
"Did too, you ogre-lover!"
"DID NOT!"
"DID TOO!"
Rather predictably, a scuffle broke out
|
