How doth one protesteth a petty injustice, when one’s very sustenance is at stake?
“Mummy? Whilst thou giveth me mine cookie?”
Ah, to babble, perchance to speak? Perhaps whence mine age becometh two.
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How doth one protesteth a petty injustice, when one’s very sustenance is at stake?
“Mummy? Whilst thou giveth me mine cookie?”
Ah, to babble, perchance to speak? Perhaps whence mine age becometh two.
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Forsooth ye gods of mischief!