“No, no, no! This is unacceptable, Mummy!” said the young Master Pearson when his mother, Lady LaFontaine, attempted to pass off a commonplace cotton frock in place of his usual silken one. “The thread count is far too low! I am not a wild animal, Mother. How could you ever expect me to show my face at dinner in these horrid rags?”

La Fontaine’s usual attire had been sent to the cleaners earlier that day. While riding his small metal tricycle, the gold buckle on one of Master Pearson’s shoes had gotten caught in the pedal, causing him to fall onto the grass and stain his best frock.

“Why can’t Daddy send a servant to the haberdasher, Mummy? I do not care if it is Sunday. This is an emergency!” barked Master Peason, even as his mother attempted to assuage him with a gigantic lollipop. “What’s this? The color of the frock does not match the ribbon of my evening sailor hat! The frock is clearly Prussian blue, whilst my ribbon is midnight. Really, Mother, this is very déclassé of you. I expected better.”

At press time, Pearson LaFontaine was being given a calming remedy containing morphine and alcohol.