“It’s only pretend, you know, and one can make b’lieve about dolls even better than about people,” said Bessie. “And it’s a great relief to suffering to go to sleep and forget it,” she added, as gravely as though there were no “pretend” about it, and the dolls were real children, feeling deeply the separation from their little mammas.
“That’s a very nice thing to do. You do make such nice plays, Maggie,” said Lily, admiringly. “I shall do it with my dolls: you’d better too, Belle.”
“Well, I don’t know; but I’m going to think about it,” said Belle, in whose little heart Maggie’s reproach had awakened a feeling of remorse for the selfishness and obstinacy she had shown about her doll. “I b’lieve Belle Maggie Bessie is most too large. I can’t carry her much myself, and papa did say she’d be in everybody’s way. I guess I’ll make a William Tell of her, if Maggie and Bessie will let me put her with theirs.”
“Yes, we will; and you can take a doll of moderation,” said Maggie, meaning that Belle could take a doll of moderate size.
“Do you think you’ll be seasick on the steamer?” asked Lily.
“Pooh! no, I shan’t. I won’t be,” said Maggie.
“Perhaps you can’t help it,” said Belle. “I’m sure I didn’t mean to be seasick when I came here in the steamer, but I couldn’t help it; and oh dear!—it’s—it is horrid.”
“Is being seasick any thing like being homesick?” asked Bessie.
“Not exactly; but the two things very often go together, darling,” said Aunt Bessie, laughing, and speaking from the next room.