"Oh dear, must I do that all over again, Mother?" she asked.
"If you wish to weave perfectly so that you may some day sell your work, then you must learn to rip and go over many times."
Ripping is deadly work, as everyone who has ever ripped knows. And Bah was not as interested in ripping as she had been in making her pattern. So her thoughts naturally turned to her precious Cornelia lying at her feet.
Her eyes turned at the same time, and horror upon horrors, what did she see? The big black sheep was there chewing contentedly, but Cornelia was gone. The little blanket was there—so were the beads and some of the cornsilk hair. But Cornelia was gone. The sheep went on chewing and couldn't understand why Bah did not caress him as usual.
"Bah, do pay attention to your work!"
Mother was annoyed. Bah turned around and Mother saw a very sad sight. She saw before her another mother—a stricken little mother whose child had just provided a meal for a hungry animal. She rocked an empty blanket back and forth, and the tears were beginning to gather. Mother understood what had happened, and now her voice sounded soft and kind.
"GO AWAY, MR. SHEEP!"
"Poor Bah! Your doll is gone!"
The little girl was crying as she continued to hug the empty blanket.