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The Lonesomest Doll
So the Queen crept into Nichette’s white bed, and drew the rose-scented sheets up over herself and Mignon. For Clotilde still held the lonesomest doll clasped close. Hardly had Nichette time to run into the closet before they heard the mother’s steps coming along to the door. The Queen lay very still and trembled, she hardly knew why. Surely not because she was afraid,—who could be afraid of that gentle-voiced mother?
