There was more to it than the workpiece. There was an understanding, a demonstration of skill, something which could not be faked, which could not be covered by weasel words, something that he could hold in his hands or she could hold in her hooves and examine. He pulled the chisel back knowing it did not entirely fit the profile but also knowing that the further down the piece, the better it got. She disengaged the drive and the lathe spun down and then stopped, and she worked the chuck at one end while he did the other.