'Ow do, Forename? Been takin' care o' yerself, lass? Remember: if you ain't got yer 'ealth, you ain't got nothin'.
Speakin' of 'ealth, one of our lot ain't been 'er normal self o' late. Divin' Dove's 'er name, an' she's 'avin' a bit o' trouble lettin' go, judgin' by the grimace she's been wearin'.
I told the poor woman she should take better care of 'erself, but she'll barely leave the kitchen fer anythin'─which is prob'ly 'ow the problem came about, now I comes to think of it. Anyroad, if it ain't sorted soon, I'm worried she'll burst.
D'ye know what a pixie plum is, lass? 'Tis a fruit what's native to Coerthas, an' jus' the thing to 'elp solve Divin' Dove's problem. Trouble is, they're bitter as sin when fresh.
...Which is why plenty o' chefs don't cook with the things. 'Course, what they don't know is, ye can get rid o' the bitterness by dryin' 'em. Better still, doin' so brings out their natural sweetness without affectin' their other properties, givin' rise to the noble treat that is the dried plum.
Now, I would've made these meself, but we ain't got no plums at the moment, an' I can't very well leave me post to go an' get 'em. So I needs you to do the procurin' an' the makin' in me stead.
Ye can pick the plums in the wilds if yer fond o' foragin'. Failin' that, take a gander at the market board in West 'Awkers' Alley. Oh, an' once the dried plums're ready, see that Divin' Dove eats 'em, would ye?
...Aye, an', um...ye might want to avoid lettin' on about the whys an' wherefores... Touchy subject, an' all that.