Gentol[a:], you were wondering if these people use bread. In this high heaped platter of small, nice-looking loaves is a reply to your query. Giantess is preparing a batter of meal and milk, which she pours into the stew, stirs it about and removes it from the fire. With a large fork she lifts the meat on to a huge platter and ladles the gravy over it. Into another platter she ladles the vegetables and bears to the table the steaming viands. The pudding being done to a turn is placed in the centre of the feast, flanked by bowls of honey and confections of fruits, and now Giantess politely and very cordially says: "Emēntos, rimoh ouman dû ran[a:] dos lito, passen tento ēvossû." In your language, Gentol[a:], the sense of the invitation would be: "Friends, rimoh and we wish you to partake of our hospitality." Giant sits at one end, Giantess at the other end of the table. The guest of honor is the white-haired, white-bearded giant at Giantess's left side, the remaining guests occupying the side of the table on her right. The children, who have quietly entered, sit on the opposite side. All being seated, Giant fills the drinking cups and Giantess serves the meal, which evidently meets with flattering appreciation. Fenēt[a:] has not been neglected, and, as he carefully finishes the remains of a bountiful supply of stew, he regards us apprehensively, and retreats under the table. Leaving these kindly disposed, gentle humans to the enjoyment of the good things, they regard as having been specially provided for them by Andûman[a:], the Creator of all things, we will bid them adieu. Gentol[a:], George and Inez will bear you to your Earth home and we will attend to a duty demanding our presence elsewhere. But our loving thoughts will keep us in touch with you until we shall meet again. George--Come, sister, rest your hands on our shoulders. You require less assistance than formerly. As you are but slightly exhausted we need not hasten. How do we move through space? That I cannot demonstrate to your present understanding. No words can convey to you that which is outside your sense of realization. Not until you shall again become a wholly freed spirit will your consciousness compass this and other marvels. So rest satisfied and await such knowledge as in the nature of events must ere long come to you. No, I do not mean in a month or a year, but after your work shall be ended. Inez, dear, we will pause for a little.