Baby has the rabbit you gave her last Easter a year ago. In Denver I was afraid my baby would grow up devoid of imagination. Like all the kindergartners, she depended upon others to amuse her. I was very sorry about it, for my castles in Spain have been real homes to me. But there is no fear. She has a block of wood she found in the blacksmith shop which she calls her “dear baby.” A spoke out of a wagon wheel is “little Margaret,” and a barrel-stave is “bad little Johnny.
-Elinore Pruitt Stewart
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