that was a vast sight of work.

One morning the Prince was at one end of the garden straightening up
some wooden soldiers which had toppled over, and Peter was in the wax
doll bed dusting the dolls. All of a sudden he heard a sweet little
voice: "O, Peter!" He thought at first one of the dolls was talking,
but they could not say anything but papa and mamma; and had the merest
apologies for voices anyway. "Here I am, Peter!" and there was a
little pull at his sleeve. There was his little sister. She was not
any taller than the dolls around her, and looked uncommonly like the
prettiest, pinkest-cheeked, yellowest-haired ones; so it was no wonder
that Peter did not see her at first. She stood there poising herself
on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up at Peter.

"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. "How did
you get in here?"

"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him going up
the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind him all the
way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, and then I followed him
into the garden. I've been here with the dollies ever since."

"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to do with you,
now you are here. I can't let you out again; and I don't know what the
Monks will say."

"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out here in
the garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' cradles over
there; and you can bring me something to eat."