“When might I meet him?” asked Sansa, hesitantly. “Soon,” promised Margaery. “When you come to Highgarden, after Joffrey and I are wed. My grandmother will take you.” “I will,” said the old woman, patting Sansa’s hand and smiling a soft wrinkly smile. “I will indeed.” “THEN SHE SIGHED AND SQUEALED AND KICKED THE AIR! MY BEAR! SHE SANG. MY BEAR SO FAIR! AND OFF THEY WENT, FROM HERE TO THERE, THE BEAR, THE BEAR, AND THE MAIDEN FAIR.” Butterbumps roared the last line, leapt into the air, and came down on both feet with a crash that shook the wine cups on the table. The women laughed and clapped.
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