"Witch cake?" came Rohan's dangerously dark, alarmed voice. "You can shove your witch cake down your—"
"Good, I like witch cakes. How much are they? Let me have a taste of one!" Belle said with enthusiasm as she glared at Rohan, who seemed to believe the cakes were literal witch cakes.
For someone who had not stepped out into the world since he was a boy to be around real people and humans, Belle could understand how all this was to him and how he couldn't see that the man behind the stall needed the money.
The man's coat was torn and thin, something that did not look good enough to keep him warm in such weather, and his son was not wearing anything better. She had been around people like this in Aragonia to know what their lives were like. She always went to the market and had many acquaintances with people who came from low-class families and tried to make ends meet, just like this man.
