"Could I help?" She pretends to think about it for a moment, all obviously dramatic like an actor on a stage. "Well, now, I dare say you're a useful man with your hands, Mr Gracchus, and this here situation's been all kinds tests on your ability to do manual labour. But I'm afraid, to be honest, I have little faith in your ability to sew neatly. And this," here she gestures, "this is too fine a fabric."

She's teasing, and obviously so. But only because she's fond of the man.

"I'd be happy to help, as long as you're willin' to give me the right instruction. A toga shouldn't be that complicated, right?"