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The cookie dough was soon all made into cookies and had been put in the oven to bake. Violet took Lilly out into the common room, saying that it might be best if they left the kitchen to Cook and the servers until after lunch was done.
They found a table near the fireplace. Violet enjoyed the heat of the flames; they warmed her aging joints and kept the chill from her spare frame. Buttercup came over to take their orders. ‘A small bowl of stew for me, dearie,’ Violet told her. ‘And what about you, Lilly? My treat.’
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Far and near as fool's fire,/they come glittering through the gloom./Their tongues as strong and nimble,/as would bind the looms of luck . . .
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