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The Lonesomest Doll

same time giving his companion a nudge and pointing to the doll.

“It is my doll, Mignon. Everybody has heard of Mignon,” said the Queen, hugging the lonesomest doll closer, and trying to wriggle away from the rough grasp of Jacques. But he held her all the tighter; and with an exclamation, Jean, the other ruffian, drew near and bent down to look at Mignon in the moonlight.

“Oh, yes, we have heard of the Queen’s pre­cious doll,” he said. “But that does not explain how you happen to have her, my pretty. I am afraid you found those lost keys about which there is such a to-do in the village there. And I believe you took the opportunity to steal into the Queen’s palace and pick out a dollie for your­self. But this is too fine a plaything for most little girls. I’m afraid we must take you to the sheriff and hear an explanation.” And he made a sign to Jacques over Clotilde’s head.

“It is not true. I am the Queen!” protested Clotilde indignantly, stamping her foot. Just then from somewhere sounded the thud of horses’ hoofs, coming nearer and nearer.

“They’re coming,—we must be quick!” ex-
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