But at least it was on the level of their soldiers' wit--though I own, at the most, no great matter to cackle of.
"Ho! ho! Good!" chuckled Boris, under his breath.

"One of them is doubtless a saint.

But as to the other--well, let us ask the Prince.

'He hath a Princess, and she is oft upon her travels ?' Ho! ho! ho!" And the lout shook among his straw to such an extent that I bade him for God's dear sake to bide still, otherwise we might as lief lie in a barn among questing rattons.
"And the saints of your Saints' Rest defend us from lying among any worse!" said he, and betook him to sleep..