Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said: 'Well, I believe I'm
boozed.'

The coachman had arrived at the melancholy stage of intoxication, and
was sitting on his box holding his reins, with his head bent on his
chest. He was thinking sadly of the long-lost days of his youth, and
wishing he had been a better man.

Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, and she brought down her
fist on the crown of his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.

'Na then, old jellybelly,' she said, 'wot's the good of 'avin' a fice
as long as a kite?'

He turned round and smote her.

'Jellybelly yerself!' said he.

'Puddin' fice!' she cried.

'Kite fice!'

'Boss eye!'

She was tremendously excited, laughing and singing, keeping the whole
company in an uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats with Tom,
and he in her big feathers made her shriek with laughter. When they
started they began to sing 'For 'e's a jolly good feller', making the
night resound with their noisy voices.