Sally is angry sometimes because of the way we dirty our frocks,
Making mud pies, and rolling down the lawn, and climbing trees, and
scrambling over the rocks.
She says we do it on purpose, and never try to take care;
But if things have got to go to the wash, what can it matter how
dirty they are?
Last week Mary and I got a lot of kingcups from the bog, and I
carried them home in my skirt;
It was the end of the week, and our frocks were done, so we didn't
mind about the dirt.
But Sally was as cross as two sticks, and won't wash our dolls'
clothes any more--so she said,--
But never mind, for we'll ask Mamma if we may have a real Dolls'
Wash of our own instead.

* * * * *

Mamma says we may on one condition, to which we agree;
We're to _really_ wash the dolls' clothes, and make them just
what clean clothes should be.
She says we must wash them thoroughly, which of course we intend to do,
We mean to rub, wring, dry, mangle, starch, iron, and air them too.
A regular wash must be splendid fun, and everybody knows
That any one in the world can wash out a few dirty clothes.

* * * * *

Well, we've had the Dolls' Wash, but it's only pretty good fun.
We're glad we've had it, you know, but we're gladder still that
it's done.