Sir Humphrey takes one deliberate step forward. The goat takes one deliberate step forward. They stand nose-to-visor in the centre of the tournament field, regarding one another with complete mutual gravity, while Reginald's quill hovers and the afternoon holds its breath. Then the goat lowers its head. The judge's hat slides forward along its horn, pauses at the tip, and falls. Sir Humphrey catches it. There is a silence of considerable quality. Reginald looks at what he has written. He looks at the goat. He looks at Sir Humphrey holding the hat. He writes something else. "For the record," says Reginald, in the tone of a man surrendering to the inevitable, "the hat has been formally transferred. To Sir Humphrey Bumfrey. Who..." — he consults his own handwriting with visible suffering — "...Resolved the Matter of the Goat." The goat walks away. From the edge of the field, Goodwife Thripp holds up a completed small hat without looking up. "Deed of renown?" she says. "Deed of renown," confirms Reginald, and begins composing his resignation letter in his head for the second time that evening.