It's true that Jack Spratt could eat no fat, and his wife could eat no lean, but all that can be said of that does not compare to the following scene.

But the Lady Dawn had laid the table with a cloth so long and white for a banquet so that she might be able to save her all.

But most of all, the last bite.

The last bite is what matters most, the Lady Dawn once said to me.

She raised her gilded glass in a toast for the pursuit of measured ecstasy.

The servants brought tray after tray so carefully and adoringly prepared.

But after every sultry sauce and Florentine fillet, the Lady Dawn was becoming quite scared.

I praise thee, said the Lady Dawn to her cooks as she helped

herself to thirds. Every morsel has been as good as it looks, but the last bite, I insist the last

bite, defy any words.

Still we must increase the portions, she said with a quivering cry of magnanimous proportions,

until I'll be unable to deny the last bite, the last bite.

I have gorged past my limit.

A war waged between lust and fright.

Though my heart may not be in it,

I must go forward into the night,

forward, forward,

bring it to me, my servants.

She sighed, I cannot move. So you must serve me, serve me, the last bite. And there it appeared at the end of a spoon, a cream-coated truffle as white as the moon.

The servant wiped her fevered tears and mott her dripping brow,

and that which she sought for so many years was finally happening now. The last bite, the best bite, the greatest bite of all.

And it was indeed.

...