All felt that they had earned what Scrubb called a “breather”. The Witch had locked the door and told the Earthmen not to disturb her， so there was no danger of interruption for the present. Their first business was， of course， Puddleglum’s burnt foot. A couple of clean shirts from the Prince‘s bedroom， torn into strips， and well greased on the inside with butter and salad oil off the supper table， made a fairly good dressing. When this had been applied， they all sat down and had a little refreshment， and discussed plans for escaping from the Underworld.
