little lisp, "Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle wabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets down on his knees so that
he's on her level, and asks, "Do you want a widdle white wabbit, or a thoft
and fuwwy bwack wabbit, or maybe one like that cute widdle bwown
Wabbit over there?"
She, in turn blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees,
leans forward and says in a quiet voice, "I don't think my python weally gives a thit!"
