Two passing Wits
Two: Ho there! Bobby Watson, i'nit?
Three: What? Bobby what, Son?
Two: Not what son. Watson. Which Watson are you?
Three: Witch son?
Two: No. Which Watson not witch son
Two: Yes. So which Watson?
Three: Sew a witch what son?
Three: Right. What should I sew the witch, son. I must say. I am surprised that you can tell that I'm a tailor.
Two: A Taylor?
Three: No a tailor.
Two: Oh a tal-er.
Three: No a tailor!
Two: A tail-er?
Three: Oh now that's a good one
Two: (pleased) You think so?
Two: Think Cat would like it?
Three: He might. Mistress wouldn't that's for sure
Two: You're right there, but she doesn't like much does she? It's hard to tell with Cat though.
Three: Say where is Cat?
Two: Dunno, haven't seen him in ages.
Three: Well that's not good….
Two: Well it's not bad….
Three: And if it's not bad….
Two and Three: It's a bit of alright!!
Laughing giddily Two and Three first cha-cha-ed then fandango-ed their way along the corridor and then, with a whirl and a toss that would make any top to toe double wide shouldered jitterbug daddio turn green with envy and fear, they disappeared; plummeting into the depths of the Keep's dumbwaiter.