[these are some of the thoughts going through Tashenka's mind at the moment...]
Munching to Mussorsky' eh? Sounds wonderful! Let's add some Chicken Kiev to that, shall we?
Shall we dance (cha cha cha), shall we dance (cha cha cha)?
[and now for what actually comes out of Tashenka's mouth...]
Monsieur le Comte, you are too kind. I am but an apprentice at such poetry. Any guidance you could offer would be greatly appreciated.
Indeed, I would be flattered to accept your invitation to dance. Thank you, ever so kindly.
Yours,
Princess Tasha