Lady Hollyhock and her Friends

To My Mother

Who has always known how to help little people enjoy themselves

Foreword

THIS book has a purpose beyond that of mere amusement. Its aim is to aid parents in furnishing not only entertainment but profitable employment as well, for their little ones—profitable, in that work under the guise of play, makes for character. The value of the things made is not in their finish, but in the training which they afford—a value ethical rather than intrinsic.

Children throw aside as uninteresting the finished toys from the shops when they have once learned to make playthings for themselves. To an imaginative child the possibilities of green things growing, of other materials provided by the changing seasons, and of the apparently useless trifles to be found in any home, are endless, and far surpass in permanent interest the realm of magic. In giving tangible form to the creatures imagined, thought is ripened into action and childhood’s natural desire for expressed imagery satisfied.

In making use of these apparently inappropriate materials in the construction of their own toys resourcefulness is engendered, practical intelligence stimulated, the inventive faculty cultivated, sympathetic acquaintance with nature broadened, and manual dexterity increased—all of which will later in life prove of inestimable value.

Then, too, such employment strengthens, or in some instances, creates the ability to get pure enjoyment out of the near at hand little things, which makes for permanent happiness.

The whole nature of a child cries out for self activity. Producing by his own efforts something that satisfies his own needs gives him the keenest possible pleasure, and puts into him that energy which results in love of work.

There is no more interesting study for grown ups than that of children at play with dolls and animals of their own making. The more imaginative children prefer the flower dolls which fade or die quickly and then go to take their places in the sky to which they give the beautiful colors on sunset evenings. Others, natural little gad-a-bouts, always play “come to see,” while in some practical little souls the spirit of motherhood is so strong that, to them, every doll is a baby doll, and everything they play with, from a clothes-pin to a poker, must be mothered—sung to and cared for, petted and rocked.

Boys, with their more belligerent tastes, prefer to make Indians and soldiers out of the same materials that their sisters would convert into the most peaceful of citizens. Those in whom the sense of humor is strong make every face a comic one, while others put into the faces drawn by them the demure, trivial, or rugged features and expressions harmonizing with their ideas.

An effort has been made to furnish in these pages suggestions for all sorts and conditions of children. The songs and jingles are for those who like to make rhymes, or to sing about everything that they do.

Only a few of the dolls and animals children can make for themselves have been suggested. The possibilities of the subject are by no means exhausted.

Des Moines, Iowa.

Lady Hollyhock and Her Daughter

Hollyhock Place was as beautiful a spot as children ever had for a home. Hollyhocks were blooming everywhere. All about the house and along the lane leading to it were great stalks bearing satiny blossoms of all shades, from delicate shell pink to the deepest, richest red. Besides, there were countless white and golden yellow ones.

When the little Wests came to live there it seemed like fairy land to them. All their lives they had lived in the city with its severe looking houses and hard brick and stone pavements. There their playthings, even, were made of wood and china and tin—all ready made and finished.

Here everything was so different. There were flowers and vines everywhere about their cottage home, shading the windows and trailing over the fences. In the garden at the back were beds of tender radishes and rows of tomatoes, cabbages, potatoes, corn and other vegetables, while over the fence grew vines bearing green and yellow gourds.

In the city the children had never seen these things growing; here they could not only see them, but could help them to grow, by watering them and stirring up the ground about their roots. And afterwards, they could have them for their very own. It was just the place to be perfectly happy in.

Cousin Charlotte was to live with them. She was fifteen and knew how to do many things to help children enjoy themselves. The little Wests thought it was because she had always lived in the beautiful country. Perhaps it was.

She knew how to make the most wonderful dolls out of almost anything and could make rhymes and stories about them. The first doll she made for them Eugenie had named Lady Hollyhock. Eugenie had always liked stories of lords and ladies and knights and other great folk so the others were not at all surprised that their new visitor was a Lady.

A most wonderful lady she was with the daintiest of satiny gowns of the most beautiful shade of pink. In her hair—or on her head—she wore a bow of green, while round her neck was a great pointed green collar such as Queen Elizabeth might have envied. The pink and green were wonderfully becoming, for, being a lady of high degree and having excellent taste, she was careful in choosing colors which not only harmonized with each other, but with her complexion.

Lady Hollyhock’s complexion was a marvel—different from anything the children had ever seen in that line,—being a peculiar light shade of green. This was not to be wondered at though, when you know that Lady Hollyhock’s head was nothing but a green tomato, her body another, the green bow in her hair the stem and calyx of the tomato, and her collar the fuzzy double calyx of a hollyhock. Her gown—waist, sleeves and skirt—was of the beautiful flower cups of hollyhocks tied in at the waist by a long blade of grass.

Her piercing black eyes were glass headed pins, her nose a bit of a match, and her pearly teeth white headed pins. Tooth picks served for neck, arms and legs. Of these last it took three to support so great a personage.

The daughter of this noble lady looked much like her mother though she was dressed somewhat differently. The face was the same but the cap and gown were just a little different. There was no sash about the waist of the daughter—her gown hung loose from the shoulders making her look younger. Having but one leg, this strange child was always compelled to stand with that in a slice of potato to keep from tumbling over.

After a time other members of the family joined these two—some wore gowns of red, some of white, and some of yellow, but none were more charming than the first Lady Hollyhock and her daughter.

The Cucumbers

During the summer and the winter following many friends visited with Lady Hollyhock and her family.

From Cucumber Hill came a most dignified Englishman. At a glance one knew him to be English for he wore a single eyeglass. A large brass headed furniture tack occupied the place of one eye while the other was filled by a small black carpet tack. Though a trifle stiff in his manners, this gentleman always wore an agreeable smile.

The lady who came with him could not be called beautiful. Her neck was too thick for that, but she smiled so pleasantly and wore such a becoming gown that one hardly noticed her neck. This gown was a loose flowing one of white. With her rather sallow, bumpy, green skin she could not have worn colors.

And the children from Cucumber Hill were much like their elders—a little stiff and awkward but so cheerful that they were always welcome.

After their visit, the members of this happy family were usually caught and devoured by Florence, Tom and Bunnie who played “Bear” sometimes to please Tom.

Like little Russians the children ate their cucumbers with the skins on, just as they would eat apples.

Radishes and Corn

The beautiful red radishes from the garden made the most charming of babies, with their leaves turned down for clothes and tied around with blades of grass. These and the corn babies were Florence’s favorites.

When the tender roasting ears were brought in from the garden the children all agreed that they were such dainty babies, just as they were, that it would spoil them to change them in any way.

All they needed to do was just to open the green husk a little and there lay the most beautiful creamy white Corn Baby wrapped in the daintiest of silken garments.

Florence hugged the Corn Baby close in her arms and as she rocked it to sleep sang to it a soft crooning little lullaby which she and the others had made up. Charlotte—and Mamma, too, had helped them a little with both the tune and words. As Florence sang to the baby in her arms the others joined her, singing softly always, and letting the song fade away almost to a whisper at the end that the baby might not miss the music when it was heard no more.

Then the Corn Baby was tenderly laid in a cradle Tom had made by gluing two semi-circles of wood for rockers to a pasteboard spool box. The wooden circle which he had cut in two had once had a bolt of ribbon wrapped around it in a store.

The Radish Baby’s Song

Radish Babies

SOMETIMES Radish Babies too were put to sleep in spool box cradles, but more often they were eaten by their fond mothers, for Radish Babies were not only good to look at, and good to play with, but good to eat, as well.

The Corn Lullaby

Pansies

Pansy Ladies

Pansy dolls were made in several ways—and pansy verses with them. Of these dolls the easiest to make were the paper ones, folded and cut as all children cut rows of doll dresses. Then a small hole was cut in the top of each dress, and the pansy stem put into it. Without further work there stood a pansy lady with a paper body and blossom head.

Other pansy dolls were made by covering tiny pill bottles with grass blades, or leaves, putting one end of each leaf in the bottle, turning them all down, and tying them in place with a grass blade sash. When the bottle was filled with water and a pansy put into it, the children had a pansy lady who would live a day or two.

quoted Mamma when she was invited out to see a row of these visitors of Lady Hollyhock’s.

Poppy Maids

GREAT beds of poppies grew at the end of the cottage at Hollyhock Place. To make poppy blossoms into dolls is the easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to turn down the soft, silky petals, tie a blade of grass round them, and there you have a poppy maid, all finished and growing on a stem—a real flower fairy. There is a small green seed pod inside, you know, and that is the poppy maid’s head.

After making a number of these without breaking their stems the children often laid a cucumber, or radish baby in the poppy bed and sang to it a soothing lullaby—one they had made up themselves. Perhaps they had a little help—I cannot say as to that.

Poppies are the flowers that bring sleep you know.

Before long, the poppy maids would fade away and others would take their places. The dead ones were quietly buried near their friends, and soon after, at sunset, their colors were seen in the sky, as were those of many dead and gone, hollyhock and morning-glory ladies. None of these ever lived to be very old.

Poppy Lullaby

Acorn and Burdock Eskimos

ALONG the orchard fence grew great broad leaved burdocks crowned with purplish pink tipped burs, which early in the season were made into all sorts of useful and beautiful objects—baskets, hanging baskets, cradles, sofas, chairs, tables and many other things.

In autumn, when the large acorns with fringed cups began to fall, the children gathered them and made them into Eskimos. One acorn was used for the body, and one for the head, with the point on the end for a nose. Twigs of the oak served for arms and legs.

The warmest of fur overcoats was made of the ripened burdock burs, while the furry fringed cup of the acorn made a cap that would have delighted the heart of any Eskimo.

Then Eskimo huts or igloos were made of the burs or “furs” as the children called them. Of course every one knows that real igloos are made of blocks of ice or snow, not of fur, but ice was not to be had at that season of the year and would not have been comfortable to work with anyway.

As the bur Eskimo was in immediate need of a home the little Wests made him the very best one they could of the materials at hand. A very neat round hut was made of burs and that it might appear more real, both it and the ground were covered with cotton snow, making a real arctic landscape.

Pigs

“Why don’t you make animals as well as people out of fruits and vegetables, children?” said papa one day.

Why hadn’t they to be sure? They had never thought of such a thing, but when they did it was not long before the place was stocked with all sorts of strange animals.

The first piece of vegetable live stock the little Wests owned was a lemon pig which Uncle John made for them from a lemon, two white headed pins, and four matches.

With a knife a small gash was cut for a mouth; then ears were cut from the skin. These were left fastened to the lemon at the front edge.

Then pigs must have pens! So pens naturally followed—pens of corn cobs put together in rail fence fashion.

Later in the season there were acorn pigs in pens made of sticks and straws.

Burdock Leaves and Clothes-Pins

Burdock leaves as well as the burs were used by the children in their plays. Hats and shawls were made of them—but best of all were the burdock leaf wigwams.

To make these twigs or tent poles were stuck in the ground and burdock leaves folded round them in tent fashion. The points of the leaves were torn off to make them the right shape.

Then there had to be Indians to live in the wigwams and these were made of clothes-pins. Nothing could be easier to make than a clothes-pin Indian.

First the features are marked out on the head of the pin, then a band of paper pasted round the top and a feather stuck in at the back for a war-bonnet; and a square of stiff paper folded around the clothes-pin, for a blanket, and the Indian is finished.

The little Wests made whole villages of burdock wigwams with clothes-pin braves standing guard at the doors.

Tom always liked stories of enchantment, so he made up one about these wooden Indians.

The Clothes-Pin Tribe

JOURNEYING across the country a lone traveler chanced upon an Indian village. Such Indians as he saw there were unknown to him, and neither did he know that Indians of any kind dwelt in that part of the land.

Strange to him, too, were the wigwams, or teepees, of the unknown tribe. All of the wigwams with which he was familiar were covered with either blankets or skins. These were of the leaves of the burdock and much smaller than any he had ever seen—fit only for the homes of a pigmy tribe—and such it proved to be.

Guarding every wigwam stood an Indian, while others were scattered about the encampment.

As the traveler gazed on the scene before him, his astonishment grew when he saw that not a figure moved. Every man stood up straight and silent.

Inquiring of a passer-by, one who seemed acquainted with the regions round about, the traveler asked the meaning of what he saw, and learned that the pigmy tribe was ruled by a giant, who years ago had departed for a great city where he hoped to bargain with the people for the sale of the tobacco which his tribe produced. The sample he carried was in the form of a package of cigars, bound about by a strip of twisted tobacco leaves.

For the crime of tempting people to make use of that which would harm them the giant Indian and his pigmy tribe had had a spell cast over them, which turned them to wood, took away their speech, and rendered them motionless.

From the time when the spell came over them no Indian in all the tribe had so much as winked an eye. And all would remain as they were till the spell was broken.

All stood just as they did at the moment when the enchantment fell upon them—the sentinels stock still at the doors of their tents, and the others stiff and straight in the places where that awful moment had found them; the giant chief stood just as he did on that day, ever holding out the package of cigars bound about by the twisted band of tobacco leaves.

When some paleface should take from the hand of the giant Indian the cigars which he offered, the spell would be broken, but to this day no such paleface had come.

This was the story Tom told Grandpa, the lone traveler, when asked about his clothes-pin Indian village with its burdock wigwams. And Grandpa said that it was no doubt true, for he, himself, had seen the giant Indian chief standing, wooden and silent, on a city street, offering cigars to every passer-by.

The Thanksgiving season brought to mind the other early settlers of America, and these, too, were represented by clothes-pin men and women, while the rude cabins of our forefathers were represented by corn cob cabins chinked with mud.

John Alden in his tall Pilgrim hat and Priscilla in her gown of gray and kerchief of white were favorite figures in these early history plays of the West children.

An Irish (Potato) Woman and Her Family

SOME of the jolliest visitors were from the potato patch. They were Irish, of course, and every one knows how much fun there is in all Irish people. There was not a serious looking one in the whole family.

The mother had a most peculiar face, round and plump and happy, but deformed. Though she had more than the usual number of eyes, they were not located so she could use them as eyes.

One was on her cheek just where others sometimes have dimples, so she used that for a dimple. Another was on her forehead, and another just where an eye should have been for seeing purposes. But, sad to tell, this one had a sprout in it, and a sprout in the eye would ruin any one’s sight.

Had it not been for the little Wests, the Irish woman might have been blind all her life. With an ordinary lead pencil an operation was performed on her face which gave her a beautiful round eye just opposite the afflicted one.

This so pleased her that a broad smile spread over her face—a smile that she wore as long as she lived—and that was reflected in the faces of all of her family.

If you had asked her how it happened that they were always smiling, she would have said, “Sure, smiles are catching, just like measles.” When one in a family has them, they all do. Yes, they’re just as catching as measles, and much pleasanter to have.

Other potatoes were made up into gay Irish maidens, with early rose complexions, and into Irish men, with sun-browned faces, and into sturdy Irish children.

These were able to stand up very nicely too, having good substantial Irish (potato) feet.

And who ever heard of an Irish family without a pig? And were not potatoes the most natural things in the world to make pigs of?

Nothing could have been easier to make. A long potato was the body, four matches the legs, two pins the eyes, while a curled dandelion stem made the most natural pig tail imaginable.

Creatures of Clay

HAVE you ever made men and animals of mud? You can do almost anything with it when it is just soft enough. If it is too dry it is sure to crack. Clay is best, but any kind of mud will do.

The little Wests spent hours and hours making people and villages of clay—for there was a most delightfully damp bank by the brookside, where the clay seemed made for young artists.

After modeling a few men, the children began to notice just how large a head ought to be, for a certain sized body, and how far down the arms ought to reach, and whether the legs were longer or shorter than the arms.

At first, though, they made some funny looking creatures. Lady Hollyhock must have smiled more than ever when she saw two of them coming. Or maybe she was frightened.

One of them was a savage with excelsior hair standing out all over his head. The only clothing he wore was a skirt of leaves fastened about his clumsy waist.

His companion was a dwarf negro made by Ted, a larger playmate of the West children. Ted never would be serious. He told the children that the ugly dwarf had spoiled his looks by looking and listening too much. His looks certainly had been spoiled in some way.

Cousin Charlotte made a rhyme about him, which seemed to explain his appearance pretty well.

A Man of Clay

The Corn Husk Lady

Through the mail one day the little Wests received a box bearing a Nebraska post mark. On opening it they saw the queerest doll imaginable, all neatly packed in crushed tissue paper.

This was a lady doll made entirely of corn husks and corn silk. The silk was for hair, of course, and very real looking hair it made. A bunch of the thinner, softer husks had been tied together for the head and body; a flat piece was laid over the place where the face was to be, and a string drawn tightly around it about an inch from the top making a very neat, shapely head and neck. Water color paints were used to make the clear blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and other features. Curly brown corn silk was next fastened on for hair, and two rather stiff rolls of husks served for arms.

Then the lady was dressed in the most elaborate garments. She wore a gathered waist, large sleeves, and a very full skirt. On her head was a bonnet, wonderful to behold. Like her gown and parasol, it, too, was made entirely of corn husks.