enlarge

Once there was a lit-tle

girl named I-da, who nev-er

had had a dol-ly. She nev-er

had e-ven seen one, but there

was a pic-ture in a lit-tle red

sto-ry-book

of a girl

hold-ing a

doll, and

I-da used to

look at this pic-ture ev-er-y day

and wish and wish she could

have one.

But her home

was a long

way from

an-y store, and

be-side, her

fath-er and

moth-er had

no mon-ey to

spend for

play-things.

Poor lit-tle

I-da felt worse

and worse

a-bout it, and

one night she

cried af-ter she went to bed, and

when her moth-er came and

asked what was the mat-ter she

said:

"I'm so mizh-a-ble for a

dol-ly, mam-ma!"

Mam-ma sat up long af-ter

her lit-tle girl was a-sleep and

thought a-bout it; and the next

morn-ing, when I-da woke,

there sat a dol-ly on the bu-

reau star-ing at her, a queer,

queer thing, but I-da knew

it was sure-ly a doll.

It was a great rag ba-by,

made of an old sheet, and

dressed in one of I-da's pink

cal-i-co a-prons, and it had black

thread hair, and blue but-ton

eyes, a rag nose, and red ink

lips—but oh! how de-li-cious

it was to hold, and hug, and

love! All the sweet names

I-da could think of were giv-en

her: "Pret-ty," and "Dar-

ling," and "Fair-y," and "Sun-

shine." And lit-tle I-da was

not "mizh-a-ble" an-y more.

enlarge