"It's the least I can do," says Susan, with real regret. "I should like to be able to do more."

They've reached the stairs up to the little room she and Lancelot have been converting into food storage. Together they've figured out enough basic carpentry and found enough extant supplies that there's a locking door at its entrance. She opens it, and then gives Galahad the spare key. Inside, though they've not yet removed the old bed, shelves crowd every wall, and on each shelf lies food she's ferried in secret from the Mansion: preserves she's made and found; great dried meats and sausages, wheels of cheese, vats of flour and grain, and all the beer and wine that Little John had left behind. Some of the shelves are clearly attempts produced by amateurs. The skill with which they're built improves deeper into the room.