While Maggie is in the kitchen preparing the eatables that help the drinkables go down with relish, the fellows can be heard planning and conniving against her. There is a general rumble that’s louder than the empty stomachs that are presently waiting to be filled with memento dintshu and dibete.
“We must take action,” grumbles one fellow who will not raise his voice beyond a loud whisper in anticipation of the goodies that have already announced their readings by way of aroma ensuring from the kitchen.