        Lyra watched impassively as the lavender mare laid out four place settings, frequently checking to determined if they were equidistant.  Forks, spoons, knives, napkins, plates, and cups were placed, adjusted, inspected, re-located.  The serving-trays came next; Twilight arranged them a dozen different ways before appearing satisfied.  She began to move around the table, critically analyzing her work, a process she might have continued indefinitely if the chamber doors had not opened to admit the diarchs.