Meggy: "I am not your Mistress Swann, you tottering wretch."
Roger: "Fortunate that is for me, you mewling, flap-mouthed flax wench."
Meggy: "Gleeking swag-bellied maggot."
Roger: "Knoddy-pated whey face."
Meggy: "You bloviating windbag."
Roger: "You, Mistress Margret, are passing skilled at this matter of insults, you milk-livered minnow."
Meggy: "I grew up in an alehouse, you wart-necked mammering clap dish."
Much more was left out in the interests of space, but ... pure Hepburn and Tracy, that is! I don't remember when a book has transported and delighted me so well. Even if historical fiction isn't your young reader's mug of ale, urge Alchemy and Meggy Swann upon them. This gleeking swag-bellied maggot insists upon it.