The miller of Locksley and his wife eyed their two-week -old son. Today would prove a momentous day in their lives, for today they would present their child to Lord and Lady Locksley.
As they were about to leave their cottage, the baby began to wail.
"He can't be hungry AGAIN," exclaimed the exasperated miller. "You just fed him!"
"I know that," said his wife, "but why else would he be crying?"
"Maybe he just likes to complain," suggested the miller.
"He's hungry," decided the wife, as she prepared to feed her crying child.
When the meal was complete, the mother handed the baby back to his father.
"Did you burp him?" asked the miller. "I think he's supposed to burp."
"He burped," she answered, as the trio proceeded on foot to Locksley Manor.
A young servant greeted the family at the entrance to the manor house. "Thornton," announced the miller, "my goodwife and I are here to present our son to Lord and Lady Locksley."
"Of course," said Thornton, as he grimaced upon seeing the red-faced infant. "Wait here while I fetch My Lord and Ladyship."
"Are you sure you burped him?" hissed the miller, while the young family waited for the Lord and Lady of the Manor to make their appearance.
"Stop worrying," demanded the wife. "He's fine."
Shortly, Thornton returned with Lord and Lady Locksley. Being presented with the new offspring of their villagers was always a pleasant task, but lately, it had vastly increased in importance. Lady Locksley was expecting their first child, due to make its triumphant entry into the world in a few short months. Mathilda
insisted the child would be a boy, and that he would arrive BEFORE his early November due date. "He's a boy and no mistake," predicted Mathilda knowingly, "and one who won't be content to sit back comfortably and wait, judging from how he kicks and turns himself wrong way round!"
Lord Locksley smiled benevolently as he approached the miller's family. "Congratulations on your child," he proclaimed.
"Is it a boy?" asked Her Ladyship with kindly interest.
"Aye," answered the miller nervously.
"May I hold him?" asked Lord Locksley, holding out his arms.
The miller gulped, then carefully deposited his squirming son into the strong arms of His Lordship. Lady Locksley beamed, as she examined the baby's face.
"He's our son, but he's not much," the miller apologized.
Just then, Lady Locksley felt a terrific kick from the child in her womb. "I beg to differ," she gasped, once she had recovered her breath. "He IS much. Very much indeed."
"He is Much?" asked the miller.
"Well, then, " decided his wife, "Much he shall be."
With that, the baby Much, who had NOT burped, spewed the contents of his recent meal all over the front of Lord Locksley's costly new jerkin.
"Apologies, Your Lordship!" exclaimed the embarrassed miller.
"That's alright," said Lord Locksley, rising above the awkward and messy situation. "I suppose I will get used to such happenings on a regular basis come November."
"October," his wife corrected. "October."