On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me twelve drummers drumming…
Dear John, 1-6
There are 23 fowl, eight cattle, 17 women, and 33 men camped out at my modest home. With twelve drums added to the bagpipes, the lowing of the cattle, the screeching of the birds, the milkmaids shouting to be heard over the clatter of dancing and leaping feet, I cannot hear myself think, nor can I find the privacy to try. You have waited too long. There is no need now for you to call on me. If you do come again, you will not find me here. Trent has proven himself much more considerate of my needs than you. I’m going away with him today to a more peaceful life. We’re taking the poor partridge; you and Matilda can have the rest.