“Look at all this rubbish! Laia's boyfriend is really going over the top. The French Hens lay eggs. We'll eat the swans, geese and the partridge. But what are we going to do with these bloody leaping lords? And these maids milking? Who's supposed to pay for their food for the next twenty years?”

My husband had a point about our daughter's lover. But after two hours of ‘discussion’ with the eight maids, he mysteriously changed his mind.

That night, however, from Laia's room came sounds that no pipers could block out, as the ten lords made themselves at home.