Anna was the youngest of her three dolls; that is to say, Anna was smaller than either Sara or Margaret. It seemed to Juliet that to be without a parlor was to lack elegance. Mr. Jeminy rubbed his chin. "Isn't Anna very young," he asked, "to keep company in the parlor?" "No, she isn't," said Juliet. Then, as Mr. Jeminy made no reply, she added, "She's six, going on seven." Mr. Jeminy sighed. "Is she indeed?" he remarked absently. "It is a charming age. I wish I were able to see the world again through the eyes of six, going on seven. What a noble world it would seem, full of pleasant people." "So," declared Juliet, "we have to have a parlor." However, she could not sit still very long. Presently she hopped down from the feed bin. "Look," she said, "this is the way to fly." She began to dance about, waving her arms. "This," she declared, "is the way the bees go." And she ran up and down, crying "buzz, buzz." She decided to play house, by herself. Arranging her three dolls, made of rags and sawdust, on top of the bin, she stood before them, with her fingers in her mouth. Then all at once she began to play. "My goodness," she exclaimed, "I'm surprised at you. Look at your clothes, every which way. Margaret, do sit up. And Sara--you'll be the death of me, with all my work to do yet, and everything." "How do you do, Mrs. Henry Stove," she added, addressing a three-legged stool, "come right in and sit down. "Terrible hot weather we're having. Worst I ever see." She moved busily about, humming a song to herself. "I declare, it's time you went to school, children," she said finally, stopping to look at her family. Without trouble, she became the school teacher. Propping her three dolls more firmly against the wall, she took her stand directly in front of them. "Do you know your lessons, children?" she asked. Then she squeaked back to herself, "Yes, ma'am." "Well, then, Margaret, what's the best cow for butter?" Mr. Jeminy began to laugh. But almost at once he became serious and confused. For it occurred to him that he did not know what cow was best for butter. "This child," he thought, "who cannot tell me why it is necessary to take two apples from four apples, is nevertheless able to distinguish between one cow and another. She is wiser than I am." He stood gazing thoughtfully at Juliet, and smiling. The sun of late afternoon, already about to sink in the west, was shining through the window, covered with dust and cobwebs. And Mr. Jeminy, watching the dust dancing in the sun, thought to himself: "I should like to stay here; it is peaceful and friendly. I should like to help Mrs. Wicket plant her little garden in the spring, and plow it under in the autumn. Now it is growing late and I must go home again." Juliet had tired of her play. "Tell me a story," she said. "Tell me about the war, Mr. Jeminy. Tell me about Noel Ploughman."