We found our next bride in a crooked-back hunch in a hovel with dirt floor and stone roof. Her skin was ivory and the curve or her cap was not to be outdone.

We asked her how she felt about Poison Pie but she informed us that she had only come to see what all the commotion was about. She had no intention of marrying that bastard Poison Pie, who in her opinion was exploiting the mushroom's fondness for dirt and damp for his own nefarious and ignominious ends.

My sister and I were shocked as you can imagine, owing to our high opinion of Poison Pie.

The mushroom swore up and down that it would all come to a bad end. We quietly put her on the "No Chance In Hell" list and quickly continued.