All that sightseeing and singing had made the Wabbit peckish. So without further ado he hopped into a nearby restaurant and jumped onto a chair. With any luck there would be a salad sandwich. Somehow - and the Wabbit hadn’t ordered a thing, nor looked at the menu - a carrot risotto appeared on the table and a bottle of lagomorph house wine. The Wabbit dined well. Very well indeed. So his small tummy was quite full. But then the Wabbit wondered about paying and he felt in his fur for his emergency coin. “Have no fear Wabbit,” said the waiter who appeared instantly. “Your emergency coin is no good here.” Then the Wabbit employed his new linguistic skills. “Grazie mille. Ho mangiato da re!” Then the Wabbit was gone, hopping his way past the crowds milling around the Fontana di Trevi. And on his way through the many legs, he intercepted some poorly aimed coins. “You never know,” said the Wabbit. “You never know.”
