phat's the needcessity?'

"''Tis to relave a widdy-woman,' says the king.

"'Oho,' says the Pooka, a-throwin' back his head laughin' wid great
plazin'ness an' nudgin' the king wid his leg on the arrum, beways that it
was a joke it was bekase the king said it was to relave a widdy he was
goin'. 'Oho,' says the Pooka, ''tis mesilf that's glad to be in the
comp'ny av an iligint jintleman that's on so plazin' an arriant av marcy,'
says he. 'An' how owld is the widdy-woman?' says he, bustin' wid the
horrid laugh he had.

[Illustration: "The Quane a-gosterin'"]

"'Musha thin,' says the king, gettin' red in the face an' not likin' the
joke the laste bit, for jist betune us, they do say that afore he married
the quane, he was the laddy-buck wid the wimmin, an' the quane's maid
towld the cook, that towld the footman, that said to the gardener, that
towld the nabers that many's the night the poor king was as wide awake as
a hare from sun to sun wid the quane a-gostherin' at him about that same.
More betoken, there was a widdy in it, that was as sharp as a rat-thrap
an' surrounded him whin he was young an' hadn't as much sinse as a goose,
an' was like to marry him at wanst in shpite av all his relations, as
widdys undhershtand how to do. So it's my consate that it wasn't dacint
for the Pooka to be afther laughin' that-a-way, an' shows that avil
sper'ts is dirthy blaggards that can't talk wid jintlemin. 'Musha,' thin,
says the king, bekase the Pooka's laughin' wasn't agrayble to listen to,
'I don't know that same, fur I niver seen her, but, be jagers, I belave
she's a hundherd, an' as ugly as Belzebub, an' whin her owld man was
alive, they tell me she had a timper like a gandher, an' was as aisey to
manage as an armful o' cats,' says he. 'But she's in want, an' I'm afther
bringin' her a suv'rin,' says he.

"Well, the Pooka sayced his laughin', fur he seen the king was very vexed,
an' says to him, 'And if it's plazin', where does she live?'

"'At the ind o' the boreen beyant the Corkschrew,' says the king, very
short.

"'Begob, that's a good bit,' says the Pooka.

"'Faix, it's thrue for ye,' says the king, 'more betoken, it's up hill
ivery fut o' the way, an' me back is bruk entirely wid the stapeness,'
says he, be way av a hint he'd like a ride.

"'Will yer Honor get upon me back,' says the Pooka. 'Sure I'm afther goin'
that-a-way, an' you don't mind gettin' a lift?' says he, a-fallin' like
the stupid bas