Yeeep, yeast rolls. Oswin tamps down panic before it can show on her face. She's got this. She's got this! They're just... yeast. In rolls. No worries. Oswin takes the various canisters and bowls and implements as they're given over, setting them out carefully so she doesn't loose track of which is which.

"[Um. Do I ask for butter or shortening? Or lard? Or... something else?]" She doesn't give him a less-suspicious question to ask, because honestly she can't remember what kind of fat source might be available and it's worrisome.