l Dainty walked to the door.

"Wait a minute, Dear Doll Dainty," squeaked the rabbits that were
capering around the top of the wall; "we're coming too." And with a
great scurry, down slid the bunnies. "We're tired of trying to make a
cross little girl happy."

"So are we," added the roses on the curtains sweetly, as they let
themselves down by their thorns and walked to the door on their stems.

"And we." The pillows Mollie's impatient little fists had punched
dropped to the floor and started off.

The trunk slammed down its lid and followed the pillows, the bureau
followed the trunk, the book Mollie had thrown on the floor followed the
bureau.

"Pardon me," said a deep voice, "but I am tired of being sat on and
having heels dug into me!" Up went the couch. Bump! went Mollie on the
floor.

The couch walked clumsily to the door. It couldn't get through.

"Tee-hee-hee!" giggled Mollie. The Pouts took to their heels.
"Tee-hee--"

Mollie stopped laughing and looked around in amazement. Everything in
the room was just as it ought to be, except that she and Dear Doll
Dainty were both on the floor.

But Mollie thought the rabbits winked at her as she laid Dear Doll
Dainty gently on the couch and put the book in its place on the table.

INDIAN HUGHIE

Hughie had always wanted to be an Indian. One day he told his mamma
about it.

"Well," she said, "why not _be_ an Indian?"

Hughie looked down at his little blue suit and his low shoes. "I can't
be an Indian," he said. "I haven't any bow and arrow 'r--'r anything
Indians have. And anyway, little boys can't be Indians."

"Oh, yes, they can," said his mamma. "Indians are strong and brave. Any
little boy can be that. How do you do, Chief Hughie?" she added, with a
low bow.

Hughie drew himself up until he was at least an inch taller. "Heap--heap
strong and brave, thank you," he said gravely.

That very day Hughie's mamma bought him a bow and arrow. Then Hughie
felt himself a real Indian indeed.

But Chief Hughie grew tired of shooting at a mark with his new bow and
arrow.

It would be much more fun, he thought, to shoot at something that
moved.

Just as he thought that, a bird flew up from the snowball bush. Chief
Hughie hastily slipped an arrow into his bow. Bing! it went, toward the
bird.

"Hughie!"

Hughie turned around. "Chief Hughie," he corrected, politely.

"No," said his mamma, "_not_ Chief Hughie. Squaw Hughie! Chiefs are
strong and br