“Like little dolls, only in pieces,” said Dora.
“That’s just what they are,” said Mr. Merrill, and then he smiled at her. Dora’s eyes grew wide.
“Father!” she said. “Are you trying to make marionettes like those we saw in Boston? Are you really?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” said Mr. Merrill, and he fitted a little arm to one of his bodies. “These are just tiny ones but I thought we’d begin small and see how we come out.”
“Is it to be Jack and the Beanstalk?” asked Dora eagerly. “Do let it be that, because we know how to play it.”
“This is Jack I’m working on,” said Mr. Merrill. “That’s his mother there, not put together, but I don’t know whether I can make a proper cow.”
“Father!” exclaimed Lucy, “Dora had a toy cow once on wheels and the wheels were broken. Couldn’t you use that cow? You could take it apart at the joints.”
“I am a printer, not a butcher,” said Mr. Merrill, “but I’ll look at that cow, if Dora is willing we should use it.”
Dora was willing. The cow belonged to her very little girlhood. She never played with it now.
Lucy ran up-stairs and found the cow. Mr. Merrill said it was the right size and would do nicely. He would try strings fastened to it in different places and perhaps they could make it walk without taking it apart or putting joints in its legs.