“All right, I’ll take him,” said Mrs. Clark.
And so she had bought the Woolly Dog. She had washed him, putting him right into a tub with soap and warm water.
“Oh, that was a terrible time for me!” said the Woolly Dog, telling of it afterward to his friend, the three-cent Jumping Jack. “I surely thought I would drown, and the soap got in my eyes! Burr-r-r-r!”
“If that had happened to me all my paint would have washed off,” said the three-cent Jumping Jack, one of the very cheapest of the poor toys.
You see the toys could talk among themselves when no children or grown-ups were there to listen.
“Well, I felt dreadfully about it for a while,” went on the Woolly Dog. “But after Mrs. Clark had washed me nicely she put me in the warm sun and I dried out.”
“You are quite white and fluffy now,” said the Jumping Jack.
“Yes, I believe I am considered a very good sort of toy,” admitted the Woolly Dog, trying not to speak proudly. “I am made of real lamb’s wool, you know.”
“I can see that,” put in a Calico-Dressed Doll, who sold for five cents—very little for a doll, I’m sure. “It is very nice of you to stay here among such poor toys as we are,” went on the Doll.
“Oh, I think it is quite jolly here!” barked the Woolly Dog. “It’s such a cute little store, you know!”