Birds and rabbits had young-ones and she was neither feathered nor furred.
So very few of the neighborhood children were invited to the shaded interior of the old surrey.

Her dolls--all five of them--spent a good deal of time there and David, the tortoise-shell cat, came often, usually under compulsion.

When David had kittens, which interesting domestic event took place pretty frequently, he--or she--positively refused to be an occupant of that surrey, growling and scratching in a decidedly ungentlemanly--or unladylike--manner.

Twice Mary-'Gusta had attempted to make David more complacent by bringing the kittens also to the surrey, but their parent had promptly and consecutively seized them by the scruff of their necks and laboriously lugged them up to the haymow again.
Just now, however, there being no kittens, David was slumbering in a furry heap beside Mary-'Gusta at one end of the carriage seat, and Rosette, the smallest of the five dolls, and Rose, the largest, were sitting bolt upright in the corner at the other end.

The christening of the smallest and newest doll was the result of a piece of characteristic reasoning on its owner's part.