Your father took the throne because he won it by conquest. Because King Robert had spilled so much Targaryen blood -- allowed it to be spilled -- in order to seize his throne and avenge his Lady Lyanna. Sansa knew the stories and everything her father had ever told her about Robert Baratheon made her suspect he would not see his own Targaryen blood as a boon. But who was she to tell any of it to Gendry? No one. She was no one; her title barely mattered in the wilds. Indeed, she childishly presumed his very lack of manners came from their context. Perhaps the bastard knight did not see himself as beholden to his courtesies now that they were gone from the castle. This thought only served to heighten her apprehension.

"Dragons. Horses. A cart. Any of it would be useful. I wish we had a wheelhouse." Her tone was not chiding. She did not scold him. But she did play the patsy -- fake-naively wishing for what they did not have so she might obliquely impress upon Gendry that pining for dragons would not help them now. Let him scold her for pining, then. And thereby correct his own pining in the process.