The Wabbit put his part of the plan into action. He asked for volunteers from his personal guard, the 400 Rabbits - but they all came, smelling of fresh paint and placards. The 400 Rabbits poured into Testaccio, formed a solid wall across the stockyard and waited. And when the stock arrived they started to shout at the hapless creatures. "No further!" they cried. "Stop there!" The stock halted. One of the Wabbit’s trusted cadres hopped forward in front of the Wabbit and addressed the stock directly. "Livestock!" he shouted. "Who will buy you now?" The stock agitated. "You are already bought - but not paid for," shouted the 400 Rabbits. A silence fell, except for a slithering of paws on cobbles. "Then who will feed us?" shrieked the stock. "We were given only the best of fodder and grew fat." This time the Wabbit hopped forward. "Your masters grew fat on your fur!" he yelled. "Join us and make certain that fur is in short supply." One of the stock, different from the rest, hopped forward. "That will not save our fur. Our fur will only get a higher price on the market." The Wabbit’s lip curled and only three of his 28 teeth glinted in the sun. "Today, my fellow rabbit," he grimaced, "we will render your fur unobtainable." He paused for effect. "And tomorrow it will be out of fashion."