Dreamikins by Amy Le Feuvre

IT was a dull cold afternoon in November. Freda and Daffy were in the nursery, which looked the picture of cosy comfort. There was a blazing fire in the grate and a bright picture screen to keep out the draughts of the door. Bertie was playing with a box of tin soldiers on the hearth-rug; Nurse was mending a pair of his socks in her rocking-chair. Freda and Daffy had been tidying their dolls' house, and now were standing at the window watching the wind sweeping the dry leaves along the avenue, and wondering what they had better do next.

"There's quantities of things we could do," said Freda, "but Nurse will say 'No' to most of them. We could go into the bathroom and have a wash. All the dolls want washing, and so do their clothes. But Nurse says we aren't to leave the room."