So she hung up her stocking.
And in the night she got awake, and wanted it to come morning; but in the morning she didn’t get awake till ’twas all sunshiny out doors.
Then she ran quick as she could to look at her stocking where she’d hung it; and true’s you live, kitty-cat, there wasn’t the leastest thing in it—not the leastest bit of a scrimp!
Oh, the little girl felt dreadfully! How’d you feel, s’pose it had been you, kitty-cat?
She ’menced to cry, the little girl did, and she kept going harder ’n harder, till by’mby she screeched orfly, and her mamma came running to see what the matter was.
“Mercy me!” said her mamma. “Look over by the window ’fore you do that any more, Kathie.”
That little girl’s name was Kathie too, kitty-cat, just the same’s mine.
So she looked over by the window, the way her mamma said, and—oh! there was the loveliest dolly’s house you ever saw in all your born life.
It had curtains to pull to the sides when you wanted to play, and pull in front when you didn’t.
There was a bed-room, kitty-cat, and a dinner-room, and a kitchen, and a parlor, and they all had carpets on.