Humphrey considers his resources. Knights, in his experience, were not typically required to negotiate with livestock, and the Modest Commendation of Bravery (third class) offered no guidance on the matter. Nevertheless, a man of his calibre adapts. He removes his right gauntlet. From somewhere within his pauldron — from a location that, strictly speaking, should not have been able to contain anything — he produces a slightly squashed piece of bread. "A token of good faith," he announces, holding it out with the solemnity of a peace offering between nations. "I offer this in exchange for the ceremonial hat, to be returned to the proper authorities, those authorities being —" he pauses, realising he does not know who the proper authorities are — "to be determined." The goat regards the bread. It regards Humphrey. It takes the bread, chews it with slow judicial consideration, and then turns its head forty degrees to the left and looks at something else entirely. The hat does not move. "Ah," says Humphrey. Behind him, the knitting needles maintain their rhythm.