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From the Microcosmicon, 13:

“Exactly what are we doing here, Marjorie?”
Nettie untangled her dress from a shrub, pushing thick spectacles back on her nose.
“Why, I’m showing you that face cream you asked me about,” Marjorie said. Her skin glistened in the moonlight. She looked thirty years younger.
“I thought you made it at home with honey.”
“Honey’s just how I preserve it, silly.”

They ventured deeper into the forest. Nettie felt lost.
Then, in a clearing, they saw it. Gray, large-headed, lost in peaceful contemplation.
Marjorie pressed a knife in Nettie’s hands. “Now, don’t be all squeamish, dear. Beauty has its price.”

MQS