Rats? I've heard the struggling classes turn to vermin during famine, though no one ever lifts a finger to help them.

[There's a blithe, perhaps naive fascination in her expression. It seems Andrew is either too curious or too sheltered to heed the cues not to guess. In contrast to the many people piling their plates high, Andrew has a single, sheep-shaped loaf in front of her, from which she has already pulled a few wool tuft knots.]

Wouldn't it be better to dress yourself fully in the company of so many women? It's your own well-being I'm concerned about - if anyone were to suspect you.