The woman of the shop rolled forward. She was as perfectly spherical as is possible to the human form.
"Treat, sir?" she said, in a thick, rich, husky voice (like cake, as Edward said later). They owned her guess correct.
"How much'll you go to?"
"A bun apiece," said Edward.
"For the whole street? Why, there's hundreds!"
"The more the merrier," said Mr. Basingstoke.
"Do 'e mean it?" the woman asked, turning to the bun-giver.
"Yes, oh yes." The girl turned from the door to lean over the smooth deal counter. "It's our wedding-day," she whispered, "and we didn't give any wedding-breakfast, so we thought we'd give one now."
Edward had turned to the door and was making a speech.
"You shall all have a bun," he said, "to eat the lady's health in. But it's one at a time. Now you just hold on a minute and don't be impatient."