King insisted on helping also, for he said he was just as handy about such things as the girls were. To prove this, he asked Cousin Ethel for a clothespin, and with two or three Japanese paper napkins, and a gay feather to stick in its cap, he cleverly evolved a very jolly little doll, whose features he made with pen and ink on the head of the clothespin.
And then they made dolls of cotton wadding, and dolls of knitting cotton, and peanut dolls, and Brownie dolls, and all sorts of queer and odd dolls which they invented on the spur of the moment.
They made a few paper dolls, but these took a great deal of time, so they didn't make many. Paper dolls were Kitty's specialty. But she cut them so carefully, and painted them so daintily, that they were real works of art, and therefore consumed more time than Cousin Ethel was willing to let her spend at the work.
"You mustn't tire yourselves out doing these," she admonished them. "I only want you to work at them as long as you enjoy it."
But the Maynards were energetic young people, and when interested, they worked diligently; and the result was they accumulated a large number of dolls to sell at the Festival.
King was given his choice between pushing a tinware cart with another boy, or pushing the doll cart for the girls.
He chose the latter, "because," said he, "I can't leave Mopsy to the tender mercies of that grumpy girl. And I don't think tinware is much fun, anyhow."
"How do we know where to go. Cousin Ethel?" said Marjorie, who was greatly interested in the affair.
"Oh, you just go out into the streets, and stop at any house you like. There won't be any procession. Every peddler goes when and where he chooses, until all his goods are sold."
"Suppose we can't sell them?" said Kitty.