She had left Lebkuchen at the stabling tent for the show horses; now she went to see if Cody was at his own tent. The camps had been set up exactly the same way they had been at Schopfheim, with slight adjustments for the trees, so she had no trouble whatsoever finding him.

He was answering questions and directing some of the others, and she gathered as she listened to him that there would be an afternoon and evening show, she should stay in her show costume, and that a cold lunch was already waiting in the mess tent. Since that answered every question she had, she trotted to the mess tent to get her hands on food; breakfast had been at the crack of dawn, and she was starving.

Luncheon apparently consisted of slapping cold cuts of smoked or cooked meat between slices of bread and the ubiquitous coffee, which it appeared Americans lived on. The local butchers who must have supplied this meat had helpfully included pots of horseradish, pickles, and sauerkraut. The Americans did not appear to know what to do with these things—other than the pickles, which they were devouring with great relish. She was perfectly happy to heap sauerkraut on her sliced roast pork. Perhaps the others would learn from her example.

It was . . . strange . . . still strange . . . to think where she had been a mere month ago, and where she was now. If anyone had predicted this, she would have laughed first, then wondered if such hallucinations were dangerous.

People were not actually hurrying over their meal, so she took her cue from them, taking her time to enjoy something that actually tasted like the food she was used to.

She was not the earliest in the lineup for the Grand Parade; Captain Cody was already in place when she arrived, as were all the Pawnee and pseudo-Pawnee. For the first time since she had joined the show, the Pawnee were . . . smiling.

She didn’t blame them. In her opinion, they finally had something to smile about. She was feeling as nervous as the day of her first performance; what if she had been wrong about all this? Oh, of course, the show could go back to the old way—but Captain Cody would never completely trust anything she had to say again.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, having the Captain take credit for all of my ideas. If this fails, he’ll be the one taking the blame for the failure, and not me . . .

The rest lined up; the formation of the Grand Parade was the same, the music was the same, and yet, there was a sense of a bit of nervousness. This wasn’t the same show. This was a new show, and in the opinion of some who still were not convinced by either her explanation or the Captain’s, a very risky show.