"I've never had one," Eponine sighs wistfully. "Sometimes, I should sit beneath the window, you know, and smell such lovely things. But they don't like us there." She smiles, embarrassed, really. She doesn't know why she's admitted it at all.

"But, Madame, you don't need to call me so. I'm not Mam'zelle. Just 'Ponine."
She shrugs. "Truly, I ain't had food for..." She tilts her head whilst she thinks. "Perhaps a week. I don't know. It is hard to keep track. And now there is food and plates and as much as we want. I don't know what it is, but truly, I wouldn't care if it tasted of shit either. But it don't. I mean - I shouldn't use such a word to you. But la! It tastes sweet, like a strawberry a little, or - well, I don't know. And there are chewy bits in it. It is strange, and I should prefer your cake, but food is food to me."