"Oh, I should say I had! Yes, indeed!" was the answer. "Did I tell you about the time Dick ran over me with the rocking chair, pretending it was a Horse like you? My sawdust ran out of a hole in my side, and I fainted!"
"No! Really? Did you?"
"Indeed I did. It was the strangest feeling!"
"But I should think, if all your sawdust ran out—and, really, how terrible that must have been—you wouldn't be here any more," said the Horse.
"Oh, it didn't all run out!" the Doll answered. "Dorothy's father hurried to the carpenter shop and got more sawdust, and Dorothy's mother sewed it, up in me so I was all right again."
"I'm glad of that," remarked the White Rocking Horse.
"So am I," said the Doll. "But do you know, since then, I have not been quite the same."
"In what way?" asked the White Rocking Horse.
"Well, I seem to have a little indigestion," went on the Sawdust Doll.
"I think the carpenter shop sawdust they stuffed into me was not the
same kind that was put in me when I was made in the North Pole shop of
Santa Claus."
"Very likely not," agreed the Horse. "All sawdust is not alike. But still you are looking rather well."