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Poor Cecco

“I don’t see why you need measure just to get back to where you started from.”

“You’ve got to measure,” said Poor Cecco hastily, for he did not want them to start asking questions. “It’s got to be done like that, or it won’t come out properly.”

“Do you mean the treasure won’t come out?” asked the Easter Chicken.

But Poor Cecco put him back in the Wooden Engine and told him to keep quiet.

“I wish I hadn’t come,” said the Easter Chicken, snuggling down inside the Engine. “I’m sure it’s going to be boring. Wake me up when you find the treasure,” he called out aloud.

Tubby and Bulka began to dig, taking turns with the spade, while Poor Cecco dug with his paws. Showers of earth flew over his back; soon there was quite a hole. It was exciting work, but the dolls grew tired of looking on; they wanted to see the treasure at once, and that was not possible. So they dragged Ida over to a more comfortable spot and sat down on her to gossip.

“Don’t you think Harlequin is handsome?” asked Gladys. “I find there is something so distinguished about him.”

“He is certainly good-looking,” said Virginia May, “but even you must admit that he has very little conversation. I never hear him say anything but ‘Hey Presto,’ and that