The Girl Who Loved Stories And Wrote Them
From under the sitting-room table came strange whispers, but Mrs. Hodgson was not at all surprised. Beneath the long overhanging cover she could see a chubby, curly-headed little girl seated on the floor talking in low earnest tones to her wax doll, braced against the table leg.
Frances, the little girl under the table, would have described the scene very differently. What she saw was not an ordinary center table, but an Indian wigwam; not a speechless doll, but a squaw to whom she, as the chief, was telling tales of the war-trail and the happy hunting grounds.