‘Ha! ha! What else do I make? You’re a schoolmaster, but you can’t tell me.’
‘You do something,’ he returned, pointing to a corner of the little bench, ‘with straw; but I don’t know what.’
‘Well done you!’ cried the person of the house. ‘I only make pincushions and pen-wipers, to use up my waste. But my straw really does belong to my business. Try again. What do I make with my straw?’
‘Dinner-mats?’
‘A schoolmaster, and says dinner-mats! I’ll give you a clue to my trade, in a game of forfeits. I love my love with a B because she’s Beautiful; I hate my love with a B because she is Brazen; I took her to the sign of the Blue Boar, and I treated her with Bonnets; her name’s Bouncer, and she lives in Bedlam.—Now, what do I make with my straw?’
‘Ladies’ bonnets?’
‘Fine ladies’,’ said the person of the house, nodding assent. ‘Dolls’. I’m a Doll’s Dressmaker.’
‘I hope it’s a good business?’
The person of the house shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. ‘No. Poorly paid. And I’m often so pressed for time! I had a doll married, last week, and was obliged to work all night. And it’s not good for me, on account of my back being so bad and my legs so queer.’
They looked at the little creature with a wonder that did not diminish, and the schoolmaster said: ‘I am sorry your fine ladies are so inconsiderate.’