Sentence The Twohundredandfortyfourth
By the time he had realised his favourite little trollop, the one he called Goldilocks for her fair hair and colouring, chosen not least because, to her Maister's xenophile tastes she seemed to epitomise her Nordic ancestry, was late in returning from her simple errand to purchase new candles for his menorah, she had already been gambolling some time with Dominic Doubleday; Sir Parlane's Man had followed her through the Mercat and down Piddle Wynd, which led towards The Cowgate, he had seen her enter the Candlemaker's next door to one of his regular haunts, a Tavern under the Sign of The Three Bears, which accommodated many different 'specialist tastes' and into which he now
intended to inveigle her; being long practised in the arts of seduction, he always carried a number of sweetmeats and, while he waited for the little darling's exit from the shop, he selected a lavender infused boiled sugar which he had always found to prove quite irresistible to girls of tender years and when the dainty creature stepped out of the shop with her little bundle of candles, Dominic pounced: “why if it isn't Maister Kilquhenny's dear little Maiden, and how is the Maister, and his new Bride, your Mistress?” and she even curtseyed, and lowered her eyelids with such delicate lashes, Doubleday felt his pulse quicken, “why thank you, Sir, for your enquiry, The Maister is well and his Lady also, who shall I say is asking?” and he clapped his hands in genuine delight at her excellent manners: “oh, my sweet little thing, you are a credit to your Household – I have a message to send to The Maister and also to his Good Lady, repair briefly with me into this warm Tavern, away from the coolness which precedes sunset,” and holding the door open, like the gentleman he certainly is not, Doubleday steers her inside, where a gaggle of his cronies are gathered, supping small beer for the most part, the occasional usquebaugh or brandy, and among their company doxies of a similar age to 
Goldilocks, but these dressed more as one might find Tavern Whores and Mercat Slatterns, all of which made the Maid from Kilquhenny's House shine all the more Golden and Virginal and encouraged Dominic to steer her to a table set well away from the others and call for two glasses of Usquebaugh while he prepared to write a note, the child feigned innocence as the glass was placed in her hand, but once the lavender ball which he gave her then was set between her teeth, she began to sip and showed none of the normal signs of a first taster of the peaty spirit, indeed, she finished the glass and set it back on the table with a look towards Sir Parlane's Man which insolently said, “I wish another,” which he duly called for; then, folding away his paper and pen, he said, “I find the noise in here distracts me, shall we go upstairs to find a room where I may do my duty without the need to fight this babble?” and she nodded as he knew she would and carrying her glass, mounted the stairs in such a confident manner, that Dominic knew she had been here before and that she would present no obstacles to him; and so it was, for once in the Private Chamber he had paid for downstairs, she flung herself on the bed, gave him another insolent look, and  then a 'come-hither' smile and happily asked,
“do you wish me face up, or face down, Sir?”