Your dearest one sent you out looking for watermelon at Christmas-time?
Have you ever thought about the possibility that she was trying to get you out of the house?
She was very, verry, verry pregnant. Safe even if she were ditching me for some rich jerk her folks had hope she would marry.
She ate everything but the shiny part of the pitifully small melon. Perhaps thou art judging my wife’s bushel in thine own pint cup.