Mossycoat – extract

“Mum!” she said. “Mum! There’s a horrible old hawker man at the door ‘

“Oh, he’s back, is he? What’s he want?”

“He wants to marry me!”

“Well, do you want to marry him?”

“No, I don’t!”

“All right,” said her mother, “now you listen to me. You go and tell him that you’ll marry him next week, as long as he brings you a dress. You understand? A white satin dress with gold sprigs on it, and it’s got to fit you perfect.”

“And will I have to marry him then?”

“Go and do as you’re told.”

So the girl went to the door and she said, “Well, I don’t know. But if I do marry you, I need a proper wedding dress. You come back next week with a white satin dress all covered in gold sprigs this big, no this big, and we’ll see. Oh, and it’s got to fit me perfect.”

“Hoo-hoo,” chortled the hawker. “I’ll be back! I’ll be back! Giss a look at you, so I can judge your size.”