The old lady, who is laughing her head off (probably too much ale she tells herself) winks meaningfully at the nice African chap, and they both stand up, collect the Siamese herd and head for the cruise ship. On leaving the tavern, she asks politely to borrow a plastic bucket. (Sea travel is not her forte, especially when awash with ale)
The massed Morris dancers whirl ever faster, form a dust cloud and vanish into thin air.
Blowing kisses to all the Tavern customers, arms linked the couple board the ship. The Siamese horrors miaow cheekily from the decks as the liner heads off across the ocean...