The Clopping Goat was busier than usual this late morn. Villagers roamed around outside waiting to get a table. My pub was emptied and I was quite furious.
I stomped over and lurked outside the back alley of the establishment. An aproned woman elbowed her way out of the backdoor.
“Pray tell, why dost ye have so many patrons?” I asked the matron who carried three pitchers to the well.
“Mine milkshake dost bring all the menfolk to the yard and verily ’tis better than thine!” she boasted.
“A milk- shake?” I queried, confused. “Ye shake the milk?”
“I might teach thee, but I’d have to levee a tidy fee.” She laughed and hurried off.
I would have to try this milk-shake. Perhaps the fee would be worth it.