"Language, lad." Ireland was standing as well, sighing slightly as she walked over to the couch and grabbed one of her blankets. "Arthur would be pullin' somethin' like this, be throwin' us off. Alright, be gettin' those off. Nay havin' any pants fittin' you, so 'tis back in the blanket you are. 'Less you're nay mindin' me skirts or dresses, 'course."

Really Arthur, did you do this simply to screw around with anything Ireland might have decided to do about this? Ireland made a note to send a mild hex England's way anyway. He'd deserve it, going after someone without even rudimentary magical defenses.