"We have much that is bitter and hard in our life at home," I told her, "but this seems to me piteous beyond words--a whole nation of starving mothers!" But she smiled her deep contented smile, and said I quite misunderstood.
"We each go without a certain range of personal joy," she said, "but remember--we each have a million children to love and serve--OUR children." It was beyond me.

To hear a lot of women talk about "our children"! But I suppose that is the way the ants and bees would talk--do talk, maybe.
That was what they did, anyhow.
When a woman chose to be a mother, she allowed the child-longing to grow within her till it worked its natural miracle.

When she did not so choose she put the whole thing out of her mind, and fed her heart with the other babies.
Let me see--with us, children--minors, that is--constitute about three-fifths of the population; with them only about one-third, or less.

And precious--! No sole heir to an empire's throne, no solitary millionaire baby, no only child of middle-aged parents, could compare as an idol with these Herland children.
But before I start on that subject I must finish up that little analysis I was trying to make.
They did effectually and permanently limit the population in numbers, so that the country furnished plenty for the fullest, richest life for all of them: plenty of everything, including room, air, solitude even.
And then they set to work to improve that population in quality--since they were restricted in quantity.

This they had been at work on, uninterruptedly, for some fifteen hundred years.