Meredith smiles and nods, and rummages in her pack for an inkwell and scrap of paper. She responds in Elven.
"Food! Right. I keep for... That is, we'll rely on you for a mix of flavours."
She scribbles: "Gone for food. Back in an hour" on the paper, and packs away the ink and quill.
"I suppose my horse could pull something, but unless it flies as well, it would be more like hitching a rowboat under him than a carriage behind. Not, I suspect, the elegant conveyance you have in mind."
Meredith goes over to a mirror and makes small adjustments to become a spruced up version of the road-weary woman who had entered the room.
"Right! Let's go shopping!"