You enter the dining room and can already feel the rich food in your mouth, the delicious aromas in your nostrils.
"There's currently no food on the tables at the moment, I apologise for that," the white-cloaked being says, snapping you out of your temporary moment of delicious-food-envelopment.
"A -- apologise?" you stutter. "Yes, apologise. You're welcome."
"I think that's what one says when someone says thank-you to them," the being teaches patiently.
"Food!" you say so suddenly that even the white being stops mid-sentence. "I want food!"
"Ah, yes," the being says, clapping its hands. The row upon row of tables sink down into the floor, then rise again, this time laden with food. You clap your hands with glee, and run up to them, wanting to see what type of delicacies they have to offer.
"Not so fast!" a commanding voice behind you says. You stop in your tracks. "First, you must..."