The Faun trotted in， half dancing， with a tray in its hands which was nearly as large as itself. This he set on an inlaid table beside Shasta’s sofa， and sat down himself on the carpeted floor with his goaty legs crossed.
“Now， princeling，” he said. “Make a good dinner. It will be your last meal in Tashbaan.”
It was a fine meal after the Calormene fashion. I don‘t know whether you would have liked it or not， but Shasta did. There were lobsters， and salad， and snipe stuffed with almonds and truffles， and a complicated dish made of chicken.livers and rice and raisins and nuts， and there were cool melons and gooseberry fools and mulberry fools， and every kind of nice thing that can be made with ice. There was also a little flagon of the sort of wine that is called “white” though it is really yellow.
