Sam gives a wry grin toward the young clown as she passes out of her tent with a box of goods. "Come Pickle...Put down that concoction and follow me. I need the use of your smaller hands putting away some of these items." Sam feels a certain maternal feeling toward the clown, one that does not often over take the carnival fortune-seeker.<br/><br/>Her blue skirts whisper as she walks, expecting Picklepuss to fall into step. "Are you hungry? I hope you did not skip dinner again."