Aslan raised his head and shook his mane. Instantly a glorious feast appeared on the Dwarfs‘ knees： pies and tongues and pigeons and trifles and ices， and each Dwarf had a goblet of good wine in his right hand. But it wasn’t much use. They began eating and drinking greedily enough， but it was clear that they couldn‘t taste it properly. They thought they were eating and drinking only the sort of things you might find in a Stable. One said he was trying to eat hay and another said he had got a bit of an old turnip and a third said he’d found a raw cabbage leaf. And they raised golden goblets of rich red wine to their lips and said “Ugh！ Fancy drinking dirty water out of a trough that a donkey‘s been at！ Never thought we’d come to this.”
But very soon every Dwarf began suspecting that every other Dwarf had found something nicer than he had， and they started grabbing and snatching， and went on to quarrelling， till in a few minutes there was a free fight and all the good food was smeared on their faces and clothes or trodden under foot.