"But you shall have her to play with just when you want her," said Nellie.
"Pooh! I don't want your old dolly," snarled Katy. "She isn't half so good as mine. I would rather have Lady Jane than have her, any day."
"Why, then, did you wish your aunt Jane had given you one like this?" asked her mother.
"I don't care for her old dolly! She may keep it for all me," replied Katy.
"But it shall be yours just as much as mine, Katy," said Nellie, in tones so gentle and sweet that her sister ought to have kissed her for them, and loved her more than she ever loved her before.
But she did not. She was envious. She was sorry the doll had been given to Nellie—sorry because it was a prettier one than her own. It was a very wicked feeling. She had some presents of her own, but her envy spoiled all the pleasure she might have taken in them.
Nellie was almost sorry the doll had been given to her, when she saw how Katy felt about it. Mrs. Green talked to the envious girl till she cried, about her conduct. She tried to make her feel how odious and wicked envy made her.
Whenever Katy saw the new doll, she seemed to be angry with her sister. Poor Nellie's pleasure was nearly spoiled, and she even offered to exchange her doll for Katy's, but her mother would not let her do so.
In a few days, however, she seemed to feel better, and the two sisters had some good times with their dolls. I say she seemed to feel better, but she really did not. She did not like it that Nellie's doll was a finer one than her own.
Yet Nellie was happier, for she thought Katy was cured of her ill feeling. Then she loved her doll more than ever. She was a cunning little girl, and she thought so much of her new friend that she always used to say "Dolly and I."