[piosenniel]

The mid-afternoon meal was done; plates and mugs were stacked in dirty piles on the counter near the sink. Ruby had just finished scraping the last of the leavings into the pail, while Buttercup poured the hot water from the kettle into the pan in the sink. The two of them stood, heads together washing dreamily at the dishes and discussing the two ‘couples’ at the Inn.

‘Did you see Mistress Piosenniel this morning? There she was at breakfast with the Mister, and don’t you know he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She sat there like a queen bee and up he gets fetching her this and that with a great toothy grin on his face. Pleased as punch he is to have her back home.’ Ruby sighed as she washed the same mug, over and over. ‘Now that’s the sort of husband I want.’

Buttercup gave her a shove on the arm to bring her out of her reverie.

‘Well, he’s nice enough and all that, for a Man, I suppose. But I’ve been watching that Maura who's come to court Miz Cami. Now there’s the sort of Hobbit would make a fine catch for me.’ She threw her dish towel over her shoulder and leaned against the sink, arms folded. ‘Quiet, but not one to let others walk over him. Sure of himself. And sure of Miz Cami, too. You can see it in his eyes, when he looks at her. A kind man, I think.’ She turned back to the stack of washed and rinsed mugs, picking one up to dry. ‘He has the loveliest hands. Have you noticed that? Strong . . . gentle.’ She set the dried mug in the cupboard. ‘Yes, just the sort of Hobbit, I want for my husband.

Cook and Prim had been sitting at the table shelling peas, listening to the two of them prattle on. ‘Ladies!’ Prim’s voice cut through their day-dreams, freezing them in mid action. Buttercup’s brown eyes widened as she glanced at Ruby. She mouthed a silent plea. ‘Oh, please let her not want us to spend the rest of the afternoon in the dark pantry cleaning off shelves and stacking crocks and canisters neatly.’ Cook’s mouth twitched as she saw the shoulders of the two servers hunch up near their ears.

‘Pantry needs a cleaning, Prim. You’ve been promising me we could get that done.’ She glanced at the two servers who had gone quiet and still as stone trolls in sunlight.

‘Well, I guess I did at that.’ Prim looked at the backs of Ruby and Buttercup, stiff as boards, and chuckled. ‘But it’s not going to happen today, Cook. I’ve got other plans.’

The plans she laid out for them were much more agreeable to Ruby and Buttercup, as they would get them out of the Inn. Cook had put together several baskets of food that needed delivering to Miz Amaranthas for the party tonight. When Buttercup protested that Mistress Piosenniel had taken the pony and cart, Prim said she had already asked Hob to fetch out the small wagon and get back two of the ponies from Faldo.

‘Now once you’ve delivered the food to Amaranthas, and helped her put it away. You go directly to Pansy Bunce’s place. Cook’s cousin has an oversized cradle just the right size for those two babies of Mistress Piosenniel, and a stack of blankets and quilts and little baby hand-me-downs that she won’t be needing any longer. It’ll be enough to get them started.’ Prim ticked off the stops they needed to make in her head. ‘I’ve organized the ladies at the Westfarthing Grange, and you can stop by there last, for some new outfits that they’ve been sewing for the wee ones. And, most important, the good ladies have been putting together stacks of folded nappies for us.’ She frowned, thinking there was one more stop. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to stop at Gammer Nutmeg’s place. She’s made a pot of her soothing Baby Bottoms ointment that she wants to contribute.’

‘Tonight, they’ll be gone to Amaranthas’ for the party,’ said Cook, bringing out several baskets packed with food. ‘We’ll get the little bedroom cleaned up and set up for them.’

Buttercup grabbed two of the baskets and dashed for the door, hearing the clatter of the wagon’s wheel’s draw up out side the kitchen’s door. Ruby quickly repeated the list of stops to Prim’s satisfaction, eager to be out the door herself. She had just grabbed the last basket of carefully packed jam tarts when the door from the Common Room swung open and Mithadan peeked in . . .