ard, propped on two blocks of wood, stood in the middle of
the walk, covered with a little plaid shawl much the worse for wear, and
on it a miniature tea-service was set forth with great elegance. To be
sure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the cream-jug its handle, the
sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups and plates were all more or less
cracked or nicked; but polite persons would not take notice of these
trifling deficiencies, and none but polite persons were invited to this
party.

On either side of the porch was a seat, and here a somewhat remarkable
sight would have been revealed to any inquisitive eye peering through
the aforesaid keyhole. Upon the left-hand seat lay seven dolls, upon the
right-hand seat lay six; and so varied were the expressions of their
countenances, owing to fractures, dirt, age, and other afflictions, that
one would very naturally have thought this a doll's hospital, and these
the patients waiting for their tea.

This, however, would have been a sad mistake; for if the wind had lifted
the coverings laid over them, it would have disclosed the fact that all
were in full dress, and merely reposing before the feast should begin.

There was another interesting feature of the scene which would have
puzzled any but those well acquainted with the manners and customs of
dolls. A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung by her neck from
the rusty knocker in the middle of the door. A sprig of white and one of
purple lilac nodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richly trimmed
with red-flannel scallops, shrouded her slender form, a garland of small
flowers crowned her glossy curls, and a pair of blue boots touched toes
in the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner. An emotion of
grief, as well as of surprise, might well have thrilled any youthful
breast at such a spectacle; for why, oh! why, was this resplendent dolly
hung up there to be stared at by thirteen of her kindred? Was she a
criminal, the sight of whose execution threw them flat upon their backs
in speechless horror? Or was she an idol, to be adored in that humble
posture? Neither, my friends. She was blonde Belinda, set, or rather
hung, aloft, in the place of honor, for this was her seventh birthday,
and a superb ball was about to celebrate the great event. All were
evidently awaiting a summons to the festive board; but such was the
perfect breeding of these dolls, that not a single eye out of the whole
twenty-seven (Dutch Hans h