Beckie Stubtail, the little girl bear, who lived in the cave-house near the nice woods, had more dolls than any real girl I know of, except maybe the daughter of Santa Claus—that is if he has any children. But, of course, Santa Claus must have children of his own, or else how could he love so many children that belong to other persons—always giving them nice things at Christmas, and all that?
Oh, yes, I know, lots of folks say there isn’t any Santa Claus at all, but you and I know differently, don’t we? And if those persons don’t believe it, I can show them, right on the roof of my house, the very same chimney down which Santa Claus comes every Christmas.
That ought to make them believe, oughtn’t it now? Well, I guess yes, and some lollypops besides!
But what I started to say was that Beckie Stubtail, the little girl bear, had more dolls of different sorts than any real child. Of course a daughter of Santa Claus wouldn’t count, for she could go to her papa’s big present-bag and take out as many dolls as she wanted—or rocking horses or jumping-jacks or anything else. So I don’t mean her.
Really Beckie had the mostest dolls, if you will kindly let me use such a word, which I know isn’t just right. Beckie had a rubber doll that would bounce up and down when you dropped her in the bath tub or on the floor. That doll’s name was Sallie Ann Kissmequick.
And then there was a rag doll, with shoe buttons sewed in her face for eyes. And the funny part about that doll was that she always kept looking at her feet. I suppose it was on account of the shoe buttons.
“But best of all,” said Beckie, when she was talking about her toys to Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl, “best of all, I like my sawdust doll, Matilda Jane Shavingstick. She is just lovely!”
“What funny names your dolls have,” said Susie.
“Yes, some of the names were given them by my Uncle Wigwag. He’s always playing tricks, and jokes, you know.”
“I know!” exclaimed Susie with a laugh, as she remembered how Uncle Wigwag, the funny old bear gentleman, had played one joke too many a few days before and how he had frozen himself fast to a cake of ice that Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear gentleman, used as an easy chair.