From this you will easily understand that she was a Toy who gained more admiration than love. There was, however, one who was truly devoted to Claribelle. This was the Driver of the Wagon, who was always of the opinion that beneath her haughty manner lay a kind heart. They were engaged to be married, and with true affection he often spoke to her about her haughty manner to the other Toys. On such occasions Claribelle tossed her head and flew into a passion, often sulking for hours afterwards. Yet, although she so sorely tried the Driver's patience, he continued to love her. And when all other means had failed he would often sing her back to good temper, for he had a beautiful tenor voice. He was a little proud of his voice, and used to practise every night, partly because he loved music, also because he delighted to show his devotion to Claribelle by singing her little love-songs in a well-trained manner. He was of a kindly, genial nature, so that you would have thought it was hardly possible to quarrel with him. But Claribelle's pride not seldom caused a dispute between them, and she would often start a heated argument without any reason. It was thus one day that a quarrel arose which ended in the most serious manner. They were out driving in the Wagon, when the Driver, remembering he owed a call on the Farthing Doll, proposed that he and Claribelle should go thither. "What!" she exclaimed haughtily. "Pay a call on that Farthing creature! _Certainly_ not!" "I, at least, must go, sooner or later," the Driver replied. "Why?" she asked much displeased. "Because did I not call," answered he kindly but firmly, "I should be lacking in courtesy to a lady who has never shown me anything but the utmost civility. However, since you do not wish it, I will not go to-day." "I do not wish you to go at all," she said. "But I see it is quite sufficient for me to say that I do not desire you to do a thing, for you to do it." And after this she sulked and said she did not love him. Upon this the Driver bethought him a new song he had just learnt, and he determined to sing it in the hope of winning her back to good temper. So he began: "'Oh, down in Alabama, before I was set free, I loved a dark-eyed, yaller girl, And thought--'" But he got no further, for here Claribelle interrupted him. "Does that apply to _me_?" she said with flashing eyes. "Well, you _have_ dark eyes, you know," he said pleasantly, hoping to make her smile. "Beautiful dark eyes, too." "Stop the wagon!" she said furiously. "I will not be so insulted. Dark eyes, yes; but yaller! yaller! yaller!" "Allow me to explain. I only--" began the Driver. "_Yaller_, indeed! Stop the Wagon!" "I should like to say--" "A dark-eyed, _yaller_ girl! Stop the Wagon,--and consider our engagement at an end." "_Will_ you let me--"