age, so as I'm sure yer Anner wouldn't want fur to hear me
say thim blastpheemies that he said. To spake the truth av him, he was
wicked in that degray that, axin' yer pardon, the owld divil himself
wouldn't own him.

"So wan time, there was a thunderin' phillaloo in the king's family, fur
mind ye, he had thin just a hunderd wives. Now it's my consate that it's
aisier fur a hunderd cats to spind the night in pace an the wan thatch
than for two wimmin to dhraw wather out av the same well widout aitch wan
callin' the other wan all the names she can get out av her head. But whin
ye've a hunderd av 'em, an' more than a towsand young wans, big an'
little, its aisey to see that the king av the island had plinty av use fur
the big soord that he always kept handy to settle family dishputes wid.
So, be the time the row I'm tellin' ye av was over an' the wimmin shtopped
talkin', the king was a widdy-man just ten times, an' had only ninety
wives lift.

"So he says to himself, 'Bedad, I must raycrout the force agin, or thim
that's left 'ull think I cant do widout 'em an' thin there'll be no ind to
their impidince. Begorra, this marryin' is a sayrious business,' says he,
sighin', fur he'd got about all the wimmin that wanted to be quanes an'
didn't just know where to find anny more. But, be pickin' up wan here an'
there, afther a bit he got ninety-nine, an' then cud get no more, an' in
spite av sendin' men to ivery quarther av Ireland an' tellin' the kings'
dawthers iverywhere how lonesome he was, an' how the coort was goin' to
rack an' ruin entirely fur the want av another quane to mind the panthry,
sorra a woman cud be had in all Ireland to come, fur they'd all heard av
the nate manes he tuk to kape pace in his family.

"But afther thryin' iverywhere else, he sent a man into the Joyce
Counthry, to a mighty fine princess av the Joyces. She didn't want to go
at first, but the injuicemints war so shtrong that she couldn't howld out,
for the king sint her presints widout end an' said, if she'd marry him,
he'd give her all the dimunds they cud get on a donkey's back.

"Now over beyant the Twelve Pins, in the Joyce Counthry, there was a great
inchanter, that had all kinds av saycrets, an' knew where ye'd dig for a
pot av goold, an' all about doctherin', and cud turn ye into a pig in a
minnit, an' build a cassel in wan night, an' make himself disappare when
ye wanted him, an' take anny shape he plazed, so as to look to be a baste
whin