With a calico slip and hood.
My doll was a lovely rag-baby,
With badly-inked eyes and nose;
Her cheeks were painted with cherry-juice;
And I made every stitch of her clothes.

"Nathan's bow was a pliant whalebone,
And his arrow a white-pine stick;
Such a life as his archery practice
Led the cats and each wretched chick!
Our tea-sets were bits of dishes
That mother had thrown away,
With chincapin saucers and acorn-cups;
And our dolls slept on moss and hay.
With a May-apple leaf for a parasol
We played 'Lady-come-to-see,'
Polly's house was the kitchen door-step,
And mine was the apple-tree.

"We never saw 'Germans' and 'Matinees,'
And we played good romping plays;
And, somehow, I think we were happier far
Than the children are nowadays.
Our swing was an old, wild grape-vine;
We waded and climbed and ran,
And never were weary, nor sick, nor 'bored'
From the minute that day began.
Well, well, well!" said grandmamma,
"In spite of their wonderful toys,
I do believe we had merrier times