A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp, “Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep wittle wabbits?”

And the shopkeeper gets down on his knees, so that he’s on her level, and asks, “Do you want a wittle white wabby or a soft and fuwwy bwack wabby or maybe one like that cute wittle bwown wabby over there?”

The little girl in turn puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says in a quiet sweet voice, “I don’t fink my pyfon weally gives a thit.”