"Have you thought what Rupert's going to enter at Bakewell Show this year?" Kate stabbed her trowel into the earth next to one of the more impressive rosebushes.
"Good morning, Mother." Edward waited for her to stand up, and realised she'd found a pail from somewhere to drop the assorted dandelions and other unwanted green things into. "Isn't that weeks away yet? And what makes you think he'll want to enter any classes?"
"Why wouldn't he? You must have some calves or something on one of the farms: he could pick one out to show."
It's tough being a duke sometimes. Especially when your mother's WI is in fierce competiton with the WI of the other vilage you just happen to own...
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