He must have thought it was a bone.
A Monkey.
Ostriches.
Charlie's Playthings.
Charlie, tired out with play, fell asleep on the nursery rug one winters afternoon. “Hullo, Charlie!” said his sister's biggest doll, walking up and patting him familiarly on the back. “Look,” she said, “there goes the omnibus to Fleet Street; let us go and see if there's room for us.”
Charlie very soon found himself riding on the top of his toy omnibus, with the conductor driving and shouting, and a wooden doll calling out “Fare, sir; fare a penny!” He drove along too through his own toy village. “This isn't Fleet Street!” he said.
“No,” said the doll; “we are now driving to the Zoo.”