"Fowl is fowl," is her uncaring remark to that. She's not going to sit there and nitpick chicken versus goose and with complete honesty, it's the latter she'd been more used to as a child, so her stomach is happy to rumble in anticipation for the meal. "I'd love some, so long as you're having them as well."

Eyeing the other items, she's not sure what they are until she sees the second set, a tender swell in her heart. "Frank," she calls over to him, wanting to verify, but able to make a guess. "Are these also for me?"