A Wicker Bassinet

In the Room of the Bath do My People place a woven lounge lined with the small cloths of terry for the comfort of my majesty.

I condescend to make my sleeps there that My People may know I accept their pitiful pursuit of my favor.

The Box Has the Defiles

I has the wish to make my sits in the box.  I make the spills of the peanuts of packing which cause the defiles of my box, but the peanuts of the packing continue their defiles.

I make the stares of disapprovals at My People.