"I saw her only briefly. She's sleeping in the next chamber. She seemed nice, but of course I don't really know her."

"Perhaps I can see her."

"Oh, I don't think the door would be unlocked." Jenny said, trying it. It opened. She stared at it, dumbfounded. How could Godiva be so trusting?

They entered. There by the dim light of the torch lay Gwenny Goblin, lovely in her sleep.

"She is very like you," Che said.

"Oh, no, she's—" But Jenny caught herself. "She is my age and size, but of course her ears are round and she has five fingers."

"These hardly matter." He retreated, his hooves landing very lightly so as not to wake the girl.

They returned to their own chamber and closed the door. "This alters the complexion," he said. "I must consider." Then he settled down on the carpeted floor, leaned against the carpeted wall, and went to sleep.

Jenny gathered cushions and formed a bed beside him. She lay on it, and

The light of morning woke her. She had not even been aware of falling asleep. She had been so tired, but now felt much refreshed. She blinked and stretched, and one hand encountered something furry and warm. Oh, yes, that was Che Centaur. He—

She blinked again. Morning? How could that be, way down here in the anthill?

She sat up and saw that the light was coming from an alcove. It seemed to be a well, with the chamber at the bottom, so that the light could come down. She saw that its sides were shiny, so that the light reflected. How nice! She had not noticed it at all in the night, but of course then it had been dark and would have looked like just a blank niche.

By daylight the room was brighter and nicer than it had seemed by torchlight, and it had seemed nice enough then. This was evidently Gwenny's playroom that they were sharing.

Gwenny! Was she still there? Jenny walked to the door between chambers, but hesitated. It wasn't her place to disturb the chief's daughter, after all. Besides which, she had something to do.

She explored the chamber, and found a curtained compartment with a shiny stone surface, a basin, a crock of water, a sponge, two brushes, and a pot with a lid. She picked up the pot and sniffed it, then wrinkled her nose in disgust. That was what she was looking for, all right. She used the pot, then put the lid back on. Then she used the water and basin and sponge to clean herself again, getting rid of the faint lines of grime that had escaped her before. She brushed her hair, working out the tangles that had sneaked back in overnight. Not only did she feel better, she now felt quite good.

She stepped out of the curtained alcove. Sammy was up, and pacing the floor. Oh.