"
"This is not a public bakery, child," replied the man, sternly.
"It's private property."
"I know Mr.--Mr.--"
"My name is C. Bunn, Esquire," said the man. "'C' stands for
Cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most
aristocratic in the town."
"Oh, I don't know about that," objected another of the queer people.
"The Grahams and the Browns and Whites are all excellent families, and
there is none better of their kind. I'm a Boston Brown, myself."
"I admit you are all desirable citizens," said Mr. Bunn rather
stiffly; "but the fact remains that our town is called Bunbury."
"'Scuse me," interrupted Dorothy; "but I'm getting hungrier every
minute. Now, if you're polite and kind, as I'm sure you ought to be,
you'll let me eat SOMETHING. There's so much to eat here that you
will never miss it."
Then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped forward
and said:
"I think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry,
especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spare and not touch
our people."
"So do I, Pop," replied a Roll who stood near.
"What, then, do you suggest, Mr.
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