"Good lord, Peter, what are we going to do with her, she'll be carted off to the Circus," Mary cried and firmly shut the ballroom door so as to not terrify the other members of the household or random delivery girls and messengers that might pop by; the morning had certainly taken an unexpected plunge through the Looking Glass when Bayberry had popped out of the drinks cabinet and asked politely where she might find live game to hunt as she was very hungry.

"Well, one thing, right away," Peter replied looking uncommonly flustered; the prospect of a Narnian Talking Leopard roaming Oxfordshire looking for breakfast had managed to shake even his Sphinx-like, unflappable calm.

"Tell Lee to not try to clean the ballroom just yet and," Peter opened the door and called in, "Bayberry, I know you'll be thinking no one could possibly care if you chewed on the old bones in there while we find you a nice side of beef, but please do not for the bones are very, very old, as precious as anything in the treasure chambers at the Cair, and they will have a very unpleasant plaster aftertaste that would not satisfy at all."