The Lonesomest Doll
and as she did so what do you think? A weak little voice inside piped “Mamma!” in the saddest tone. Nichette pulled off the satin quilt that covered the top, and there lay the lonesomest doll, even more beautiful than she had imagined.
“Oh!” cried Nichette, clapping her hands. “Oh, you sweet dollie! How I love you!” And never thinking at all about the satin gown, or the lace, or the crown of jewels, or any of Mignon’s tiresome clothes, Nichette seized the doll from her box and hugged her up close in her arms.
Poor lonesome Mignon! How good it seemed really to be kissed and petted at last, even though it did snarl her golden curls and crease the velvet train; and even though a little spot of red melted off her rosy cheek when Nichette’s lips touched her. It was the first time that she had been happy in her life, though she lived in a palace with a Queen for her truly mamma. But this little girl in the coarse woolen gown, with sunburned hands, and with freckles on her dear little nose, already seemed much more like a mamma, though Mignon had seen her for only a minute and a half.
