There, in a lacquered perambulator, sails past a little hooded head that controls from its cradle an entire New Jersey corporation.

The United States attorney-general is suing her as she sits, in a vain attempt to make her dissolve herself into constituent companies.

Near by is a child of four, in a khaki suit, who represents the merger of two trunk-line railways.

You may meet in the flickered sunlight any number of little princes and princesses far more real than the poor survivals of Europe.
Incalculable infants wave their fifty-dollar ivory rattles in an inarticulate greeting to one another.

A million dollars of preferred stock laughs merrily in recognition of a majority control going past in a go-cart drawn by an imported nurse.