She put up one final feeble struggle that same night, when Anthony came home, and Small showed him the wonders in the new book. "Look, Daddy, this one looks like a sheep!"
"It's a Bedlington Terrier."
"Can we eat it?"
"No. It may look like a sheep, but it eats like a dog. What kind do you want?"
"He wants a big one," said Alice. "Great Dane or St. Bernard."
"How about an Irish Wolfhound?"
"Is that a big one, Daddy?"
"Tallest in the book."
"Maybe we should choose that," said Alice tentatively. "That is," she corrected herself, "if we choose any at all. And I rather doubt whether we should."
"It's up to you."