"--Ooh."

Puck disappears, reappears in said (shadowy) corner, pries open the wardrobe door, and rifles around inside.

After a few moments, there is a muffled "A-ha!" and he emerges triumphantly clutching something ...

Ah.

Well. It's definitely nightshirt-shaped. And ... potentially made of some manner of cotton.

Very ... gauzy ... sheerish ... cotton.

"What do you think?" he says with a grin, holding it to his chest.

(If the answer isn't ridiculous, Puck will begin to suspect that the fusty castle air has touched Havelock's wits.)