[Open Post: Dinner Is Served]

Kade's deliveries of fresh fruit have suddenly dried up--and Little John could do without fresh fruit; he's done it before, and anyway he dries half of what Kade brings him, so he's got plenty laid in for the lean months. But the thing is, he likes chatting with Kade now and then. Likes his jokes and his stories and his appreciation for mischief. And so, when the day comes when no fresh fruit's in the offing, Little John figures he ought to take a stroll through the mansion on his regular rounds to pick up cream for Ragnelle. No reason. Just making sure everything's all right.

The more cabinets he opens, the more sure he is that everything is not all right. The magic box doesn't make milk or fruit. The refrigerator at the bar can't be coaxed to make beer--and the rest of the liquor's gone missing, which he's sure is mostly not his fault even if he's definitely made sure that his own cellar's well-stocked.

"Well!" he says to himself as he closes the magic box again on six bottles half-full of different mustards and a few sad packages of tofu and iceberg lettuce. "All those years of poaching weren't for naught!"

So it is that, some hours later, there's a merry fire burning in the firepit from Wanderers Gather. Little John has hung a doe's carcass up on a nearby tree, and he skins and guts the deer with practiced efficiency. He's set up a spit to cook the venison on, and and brought a few bottles of beer from his personal stash in case the scent of roasting meat should make anyone thirsty.

As he cooks, he whistles "Miri it is while sumer ilast" to himself.