“Bung upwards, she means, Your Grace," a tart called out.”
“Wow. Being responsible sure takes it out of you. This calls for a Pop-Tart.”
“Grace? Are you tipsy? (Selena)Maybe just comfortably toasty. Pop tart toasty. (Grace)”
“If she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts, the Dreadfort will soon be overrun with Boltons.”
“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”“A tart?”“Yes! That’s it!”
“they came in search of the hot stuff, just like any man calling on a tart.”