omen's lips, so he grabbed his bait
and tackle and headed for the river. Sir Percival, on the other hand,
really thought Arissa might be worth another attempt, and he
rationalized with himself that perhaps she didn't quite understand
the question. "Or belikes the maiden is just shy," he thought.

So Sir Percival, seeing on another day the fair, delicate Arissa
using her footman's coat to clean the mud off her shoes, again
approached and asked: "Arissa, sweet one, won't you go out with
me sometime?"

Arissa generously gave Sir Percival a look that could have frozen
several pounds of choice lobster, and replied, "You must be kidding."

Sir Percival thought about this answer for a couple of days, and
still finding his inclination toward the gentle Arissa unchanged,
he thought to make a clarificatory attempt, just in case the maiden
did believe he had been kidding. Approaching her the next morning,
Sir Percival said, "Kind Arissa, I wasn't kidding the other day.
Ifay, I'd like to date you." Only the author's extreme commitment
to complete truth forces him to admit that a tiny trace of irritation
now flashed, but only for the briefest of moments, across the lovely
Arissa's brow. "Get lost, creep," she said, clearly and distinctly.

Well, needless to say, by now most of the other knights in the realm
were getting sufficient jollies out of Sir Percival's romantic
endeavors. Even Sir Wishful had joined in the laughter, ridicule,
and derision that seasoned Sir Percival's every meal with his friends.
This hilarity touched the young knight and caused him to spend several
days in contemplation of his past behavior. "Am I gaining or losing
ground with Arissa?" he asked himself. "Rather had she said, 'Get
lost' before she said, 'You must be kidding,' for as it stands, I
can't say I'm making much progress."

But "Steadfast" was probably Sir Percival's middle name (or his
uncle's middle name, anyway), so the knight decided to approach
Arissa yet again. After all, Arissa seemed to be pretty okay,
and Sir Percival wanted a date. In a few days, then, Arissa
heard a familiar question in a familiar voice: "Arissa, sweetheart,
let me ensconce you in my carriage and take you on a date." To
which Arissa replied, "Sorry Perce, I'm busy. I've got to
wash my hair."

To which the knight: "Well, when could you go then?"

To which Arissa: "Well, I'll be busy for the next ten years. I
mean, I've got stuff to do, forsooth."

We