chocolate I left lying on my throne this morning, while I had my porridge," replied the Moor.
"Oh, you little liar," shrilled the tearfully indignant Desdemona. "I never, ever."
"What did you call me?" inquired Othello, with deadly politeness.
"A kind of storyteller," snivelled Desdemona. "You know it's a none-truth."
"Then, by my halibut, prepare to die—and less jabber," was the cruel answer.
"Well, I just shan't then," replied the hapless bride, and, moved to righteous indignation, fetched her lord a good useful kick in the stomach.
"‘You're a 'palling little liar,' I said, and so you are."
In the fight that followed, Desdemona won, hands down, and by tacit consent the play, "Othello, the Moor of Venice," was removed from the repertoire of the Junior Curlton Club Dramatic Society.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, ABERDEEN
