"Reginald," says Humphrey, without turning — he has decided maintaining eye contact with the goat is essential and refuses to examine this decision. "What will the record say?" Reginald consults three pieces of parchment simultaneously, which is impressive given that two are attempting to escape. "It will say," he begins, in the tone of a man reading a death sentence he personally composed, "that on this day, Sir Humphrey Bumfrey, Knight of the Realm, Defender of the Somewhat Defensible, did present himself at the Tournament of Considerable Significance — some four hours after its conclusion —" "Fashionably late," Humphrey offers. "— and did formally bow to a goat." A pause. "And the hat," says Humphrey. "The hat is on the goat." "I am acknowledging the office of the hat, which the goat currently embodies. There is a distinction." He says this with great conviction. Reginald writes something. Humphrey cannot see what. Reginald's expression suggests it is not flattering. The goat takes another deliberate step forward, and this time the hat tilts toward Sir Humphrey like a question.