Wenchhood

Louise Glaum, as the nasty gixy clubbed into wenchhood, gave a characteristically energetic physical portrait.

It was about this time that the rest of the French Navy staggered in with the jauntiest of Moorea's wenchhood upon its arm.

Kothar snarled. His eyes ran over her sweet shapeliness disclosed by her torn garment, and he grinned. “It would be a waste of wenchhood to burn her.”