Her Majesty, The Queen Of All Hearts

The Queen of England is waiting to shake my hand, but my mind is on string beans. At dinner last night in a grand, raftered, 16th century eating hall, the waitress serving my table suddenly slipped and fell. Her silver salver was still clanging on the wooden floor as we rose to help. As the blush of shame faded from her cheeks, accusing fingers pointed at a wayward haricot vert on the floor, the apparent cause of her undoing.

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