The troll scratches the back of his head with its erstwhile toothpick, looking puzzled.

"Sack of spun gold," counting off on his fingers, "or firstborn child, or... Credit? Okay." He rips the roof off the toll booth and reaches inside to pull out an old fashioned credit card swiper that has obviously seen better days. It's tiny in his large, stubby fingers. So tiny that he almost immediately crunches it between them. "Oops. Stupid troll. No credit. Troll could eat him," he offers helpfully, pointing to Jamie. "Good toll."

Jamie shakes his head. "No. Thank you, but no. I'm not at all appetizing. Very stringy."

Saddened, the troll makes a lumbering turn toward Eleanor.