Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, lived a little girl who adored her dolly more than anything else in the world. Dolly, as you might expect, was her name. She had fluff for hair, blue eyes, a mouth that could be opened and shut, and almost all of her fingers and toes. She was a real darling.
But one bright sunny afternoon, as this little girl was walking out with her Mamma, dollie fell off her arm without being noticed. Oh self! Where was that dear little girl when I knew that I was lost. She was crying “Dolly! Dolly!” everywhere, but Mamma could not stay to look for her. So Dolly wandered away by herself.
Far, far away, she came upon a rope about which were hung dolls, trains of cars, marbles, and all sorts of other toys. Here was a real pleasure. For, to say the truth, my readers, the little girl who owned Dolly did not play with her nearly as much she should have done for she did not think she had very many little girl visitors. And she had no one to play with her, but one old Auntie who was very rheumatisms and had to be heated every night on going to bed. But she thought she had devoted so very much attention to dolly, that she began to tire of her by the end of a week. So Dolly thought at first, and she was afraid it was going to be always to be so. But she need not have been in such a hurry, as you will see in the end of her story.
If she was not going to have the little girl any longer, she had no reason at all to complain of her new friends on the Island of Lost Toys or of Mistress Marigold as they called for short. It was very charming and perfectly lovely. The dolls were so very nice, that Mistress Goldenhair said she was frightfully tired of green-and-white, and Mistress Fern, Mistress Fawneye and Mistress Browneye seemed suddenly to unite in a thread of weepful chorus, and though she was very fond of her, did not at first feel very kindly towards the new-comer, Dolly.
There were all sorts of pleasant entertainment, parties, picnics, and excursions, and even fairyland was not so very very stupid after all. The Palace of the Fairy Toyman was scrupulously clean and on Wednesday afternoons the dolls had always a new gown and a new petticoat and she had a copy for poor Mistress Green-and-white dared not appear before-dolly without an extra new-gown, or Mistress Merrily, who was his sister, without an extra white gown. For Mistress Green-and-white occasionally teased Dolly, but Mistress Merrily was afraid even to whisper a peep at her, big as she was.
Dolly and the little girl cried very much at first, for fear they should not find each other. Then they heard the old Toyman muttering to himself and then some toy sang a song about their separation being for a good reason and in a good place. By and bye it was got apart entirely.