You take a bite of the moderately moldy loaf, and lo and behold, it tastes awful, and you spit it out on the floor.
You swear you hear a brief cackle from the phesant, but it appears to be still, and you write it off as just the house being creaky.
You drink from the sink to wash the taste out of your mouth.

You can still choose:
the clearly moldy loaf on the left,
the least moldy loaf on the right,
or the icebox in the corner.