“It does seem strange, but I don’t know of a lovelier thing that could happen to a little girl than to have her doll come to life. What a fine time there would be in the doll house!” she said, glancing out of the window at a beautiful little house under the trees. It was just like a real house, with a porch across the front, a real door bell, tiny shades and Swiss curtains at the windows, and a little brick chimney upon the roof.
Janie clapped her hands.
“O mamma, won’t it be fine? I can hardly wait.” She flew out of the door and into the doll house.
Each room was in good order, for Janie was a fine housekeeper. Papa had given the dolls’ home to her, thinking that if the little girl learned to keep this one in order she would some day be able to take care of a larger one.
She looked at the parlor with its mimic furniture, a sofa, chairs, piano, and a grate where she could build a fire if mamma were watching. Then she went into the dining-room, where the table was set all ready for dinner. How lovely it would be to see the dolls sitting there and actually eating!
In the kitchen was a little range with an oven, and there Dinah, the black cook, was propped against the wall, looking as if she were only waiting for the magic word to set her marching off getting dinner. Her wig would probably fall off, as it was loose, and her leg was broken. Janie resolved to mend her at once, as it would not do to have her come alive in that condition. She peeped into the dear little pantry at the kettles, skillets and shining pans on the shelves, and at the tiny box marked “Cake.” In one corner was an ice box, in another a flour barrel.
Upstairs there were dolls of all ages and sizes; papa, mamma and children. A little baby in long dresses lay in a cradle, and other dolls were sitting and standing about, some dressed and some, I am sorry to say, stark naked. Janie dressed and arranged them all in various attitudes; then, seized with a sudden inspiration, she exclaimed:
“Well, if it is true, we’ll have the best time in this little house we ever had, and I’m going to get ready for it.”
So she swept it from top to bottom, washed the little windows, tied back the pretty curtains with fresh ribbons, dusted the furniture, made the beds, washed the dolls’ faces, mended Dinah’s leg and fastened her wig, flitted about from room to room, giving each one a last fond look, and then she locked the front door and hung the key on the branch of a tree, where it was safely hidden by the leaves.