A romantic man may be inclined to think of the special woman in his life as something of a princess. She is a delicate, refined flower who shines in spectacular glory at the King's Ball.
In this case the Ball was a picnic dinner on a rocky bar at the edge of the river. The delicate flower was, of course Trina. She, as usual, was hungry, and had just sat herself down with a container of cole slaw acquired from a local BBQ restaurant. Suddenly, an evil Troll (played by Sprocket, the red dog) demanded to be petted by shoveling his head firmly under the fair princess' arm, causing her to lose her grip on her cole slaw which sent the contents tumbling downward into her glass slipper a.k.a. an aged and filthy clog.
A foul word was uttered by her highness. And from where I sat next to her, it looked like the happy little dinner was over. Half the cole slaw was ruined. Trina would be hungry. And perhaps, even, the rotting corpse of the ancient clog could be -- at last -- discarded.
I however, underestimated the situation. Trina simply picked up the foul shoe and scooped forkfulls of only slightly gritty (she said) slaw into her delicate mouth. Then rinsed this most recent of indignities from her shoe with river water, put the shoe on, and -- satisfied and happy (insert sailor-like belch here) -- trundled off to throw sticks for dogs, find pretty river rocks, spy on ducks, or whatever beautiful princesses do on lovely afternoons down by the river.