“Oh, that,” said his mother scornfully. “Why, that’s nothing but a reed from the pond!”
But the boy knew it was more than that. It was a magic pipe that made you dance, and made your heart warm and happy.
So he said again, “I’d like to give her the doll,” and he reached out his little hand and touched his mother’s—and his eyes were wistful.
His mother’s own eyes softened—she had lost one son that day—and she said, “Oh, well, do as you please,” and went back to the kitchen.
The Boy-Next-Door ran into the great room and took the doll from the tree, and wrapped her in paper, and flew out of the door and down the brick walk and straight into the little house.
When the door was opened, he saw that his friends were just sitting down to dinner—and there was the beefsteak pie all brown and piping hot, with a wreath of holly, and the Small Girl was saying,
“And the onions were silver, and the carrots were gold——”
The Boy-Next-Door went up to the Small Girl and said,
“I’ve brought you a present.”
With his eyes all lighted up, he took off the paper in which it was wrapped, and there was the doll, in rosy frills, with eyes that opened and shut, and shoes and stockings, and curly hair that was bobbed and beautiful.