is called Castilian something or other, and at the price it is unequalled for flavour and bouquet."
The butcher said, "Well—I never!"
And Alice went on, "Would you like to taste it?"
"Thank you very much, I'm sure, miss," said the butcher.
Alice poured some out.
The butcher tasted a very little. He licked his lips, and we thought he was going to say how good it was. But he did not. He put down the medicine glass with nearly all the stuff left in it (we put it back in the bottle afterwards to save waste) and said, "Excuse me, miss, but isn't it a little sweet?—for sherry I mean?"
"The real isn't," said Alice. "If you order a dozen it will come quite different to that—we like it best with sugar. I wish you would order some."
The butcher asked why.
Alice did not speak for a minute, and then she said—
"I don't mind telling you: you are in business yourself, aren't you? We are trying to get people to buy it, because we shall have two shillings for every dozen we can
