Meg managed a couple of hours of sleep. Enough that she doesn't feel the need to actually prop her eyes open, not so many that she's not grateful to see the tea pot at the end of the table.

She takes some bread and a plum to go with her tea, and chooses a chair on the edge of the room, near a window and next to a small table. Someone has left a copy of Mother Goose on the table, which (at least until other people show up), Meg is flipping through.

The illustrations are quite lovely.