“That’s lots better,” declared Dolly, as they placed the improved ladies and gentlemen at the party. So many did they have, that the parlour was filled with dancers, and the dining-room with supper guests at the same time.
Pinkie was of a realistic turn of mind, and insisted on having bits of real cracker or cake or apple in the dishes on the table, and real water in the pitchers and coffee pots on the sideboard.
Dolly was quite content to have scraps of paper for cakes, or even empty dishes filled merely with imagination, but when Pinkie played with her they usually had real things wherever possible.
The china dolls of the family, and the paper guests kept up a continuous conversation, and the voices were either Pinkie’s or Dolly’s as occasion required. A deep, gruff voice represented a gentleman talking, and a high, squeaky voice, a lady.
“What a beautiful party we’re having,” said a brown paper man in Dolly’s deepest chest tones.
“Yes,” squeaked a lovely lady, in light blue crinkled tissue paper. “Please get me a glass of lemonade.”
The brown gentleman deftly poured about two drops of water from a tiny pitcher into a tinier cup, and gallantly offered it to the lady.
It accidentally soaked her tissue paper scarf, as she drank it, but two drops wouldn’t hurt anybody’s costume seriously, so the incident was overlooked, and the gay chatter went on.
“Are you going to opera to-morrow night?” asked one bewitching belle of another.
“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “I’m so fond of music. I practise an hour every day.”