Thirty-Seven:

The Cyclops sent the royal bag sailing west over the bay.

"...i wasn't joking," said Brian. "...we can't do this... she won't want to date an ogre..."

"Alas, how would Monsieur le Brian know?" said Spot. "Mademoiselle Princess approaches the age to consent to the maturing appetites, no?"

"...what do you mean?" said Brian.

"I know the young women throw themselves at the man who leads the life of danger," said Spot. "With every breath he takes, odds are he will not live to see tomorrow."

"...how do you get these shows on our TV?" said Brian.

"She may very well wish the affection of the powerful ogre to tell her things to do," said Spot. "And how would the Strange Banana-Boy know this is not so? What does he know of the maturing appetites of the teenaged spinsters?"

"...you cannot set her up on a date with an ogre," said Brian.

"My name is Monsieur le Brian," said the dog. "I cry like the baby. Because the magic cloak has taken away the magic beard. Le boo hoo..."

"What?" said Brian. "I didn't cry."

"...le boo hoo," said Spot. "Le boo hoo hoo..."

"—ok, ok," said Brian. "But if she doesn't like him, our one-eyed friend will be very, very upset... one eye..."

"Have no worries, Monsieur le Brian," said Spot. "Monsieur le Cyclops shall deliver to Mademoiselle Princess the tortured serenade. Of the desperate and cornered masculinity. From whom she may finally receive the permission to own what is hers."