Good jam to sell! Good jam to sell!
To hell with the jam. I’m too old for this. My knees hurt and my back hurts, and besides that, I’m furious. I just climbed three flights of stairs with my heavy basket to reach a tailor who called me from his window. Once I got up there, he made me take out all my pots so he could see every single one of them. He took each pot, sniffed it, and then hemmed and hawed until he finally bought four ounces. Four ounces for all that!
What does a tailor know about the cost of making jam?
Good jam to sell! Good jam!