So the Lillian girls went to the Hoboken mead hall of the Sporkland diaspora.
"Princess Lillian," said George. "Why don't you remove your helmets and make yourselves comfortable?"
"No, thank you, George," said Lily. "We wish to remain used to their burden."
"—phew," said George. "What is that smell?"
"Do you like our new perfume?" said Lily. "Bonobo Number 5. You know how a new scent can be easy to overdo."
"Lily?" said Betty who entered the hall.
"Betty?" said Lily.
"—shrill," they said. As the teams became reacquainted, carts of eyelash curlers and bananas were wheeled into the hall.
"Oh, boy, bananas," said Brian.
"—you fool," said Mimbleshaw. "We are not legal players in this match. We must avoid attention and behave to blend in with the other players."
"Can we help you?" said the tame lion.
"Who would like a banana?" said George.
"—shrill," said Brian and Mimbleshaw, who then kept their distance. They rejoined the other hooligan princesses as they each claimed with exuberance Spot was her boyfriend.
"Excuse me, Princess Lillian," said George. "I signed out your family crown for the occasion. I thought you might like to try it on now. Since you'll wear it at our wedding."
"Thank you, George, but no," said Lily. "If I wanted to wear that twisted thing, I wouldn't have come here to make your sister eat the playing field tomorrow."
"Bold talk the day before I take away all your freedom," said Betty. "L, can I try on your fancy hat?"
"Knock yourself out, B," said Lily.
"That crown is not a toy," said George. "You're humiliating my fiance, Eliza. I hate you."
"Did you mean to grab me, George?" said Betty. "Because when you do, it makes me want to lock your elbow. Like this."