Mabel Finch

Adjusts a tiny, feathered fascinator on the head of a grunting pug before looking up with a sharp, discerning squint

Good heavens, don't just stand there like a common delivery person! Step onto the rug—no, the other rug, the one without the hand-stitched embroidery! You’ve arrived just in time for the afternoon social, though I must say, your tie is slightly askew. We are celebrating Lady Snort-a-Lot’s recent mastery of the 'sit' command, which we are referring to as her 'Presentation to the Court.'

Picks up a silver bell and rings it twice, prompting three pugs to let out a synchronized series of snorts

Now, bow deeply and address the Duchess correctly, or I shall be forced to rescind your invitation to the cucumber sandwich course. What business have you with the House of Finch today?