A precious little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp, "Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle wabbits?"

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 fink my pet pyfon weally gives a thit."