Rosmerta rolled her eyes. They were no longer in front of an audience, she no longer felt constrained by social convention, so she just let her emotions show nakedly. And what she was feeling in that moment was that she just married a moron. She could have fairy cakes and milk? Well, yay, how filling. And they were making a feast outside? Well they weren't outside, now were they.
But then the discussion shifted and the things he was saying were... puzzling. She listened, genuinely listened, to what he was saying, trying to puzzle out a way to reconcile what he was saying with what she had heard of him. Granted, gossip was rarely accurate, but there was still the fact that he did take a new bride every year. And yes, he could be lying, but Rosmerta had a pretty good deception detector, and she thought he was really sincere. So... what was going on there?
Before she could figure it out, or even address it, though, he brought up something she didn't want to talk about at all. So she brushed it off, both figuratively and literally, making a little waving motion with her hand. “The cup simply wasn't provided. Upon request, just not mine. They should have... they... they did what they did, and that's the end of it. But I let you know, so it worked out in the end, didn't it?”
And because she really didn't want to explain how betrayed she felt by the actions of people that she'd trusted, Rosmerta did a quick topic change herself. Back to the one he'd just been discussing. Because she was never going to make sense of it unless she got more information. “I understand why you'd have gone along with that first one. Obviously, I can empathize with being put on the spot. But why do you keep taking a new bride every year? Why not, that second year, or third, or twelfth explain that you and your 'wife' can continue to bless the land with fertility? You come off sounding like a lech, Cernunnos. Is that how you want to be remembered? How many wives have you had now?”