The Bull-frog at last succeeded in lifting her to the shore. A kindly
Musk-rat begged her to be his housekeeper; limping, she went into his
soft-lined house, and was grateful even for this humble abode. Often
she thought of the past, and cheered the simple fireside with tales of
adventure, with the grandeur of Life in a Baby-house, and how she
might have been the bride of an Oriole. But was she not missed in the
baby-house? Angelica Maria wept her loss, but her uncle consoled her
by telling her the Spanish Doll must have retired to one of her
castles in Spain. This cheered Angelica Maria, and she busied herself
in fitting new dresses for the poor travel-stained dolls she had left.

So this was the end of the Flight of the Dolls. You can imagine
whether they ever tried it again, or rested satisfied with their
comfortable home. A few days after, Angelica Maria saw a little head
peeping out of a withered fox-glove. It was that of the littlest
China. She was much emaciated, having had nothing to eat but a few
drops of honey brought her by a benevolent Bee. Even these had cloyed.

Years after, when the spout of the wood-house was cleared out, the
boots of a middling-sized Doll were seen. They belonged to the
middling-sized Doll with boots, who had clambered up to the dovecote,
and had lost her balance in the gutter. She had passed a miserable
existence, summer and winter, bewailing her fate, and looking at her
boots.




SOLOMON JOHN GOES FOR APPLES