There was once a very happy little girl who spent her childhood on an old green farm.She had a little sister, and these two children never knew what it was to possess toys fromthe stores, but played, played, played from dawn till dark, just in the play-places they foundon that green farmstead. I so often have to tell my children “how mama used to play”—forI was that very happy little girl—that I think other “little women” of these days willenjoy knowing about those dear old simple play-times.

I.—THE LITTLE STUMP-HOUSE.

One of my pet playhouses was an old stump, out in the pasture.Such a dear, old stump as it was, and so large I could not putmy arms more than half way round it!

Some of its roots were partly bare of earth for quite a little distancefrom the stump, and between these roots were great greenvelvety moss cushions.

On the side, above the largest moss cushion, was a little shelf wherea bit of the stump had fallen away. On this little shelf I used toplace a little old brass candlestick. I used to play that that part ofthe stump was my parlor.

Above the next moss cushion were a number of shelves where I laidpieces of dark-blue broken china I had found and washed clean in thebrook. That was my dining-room.

There were two or three little bedrooms where the puffy moss bedswere as soft as down. My rag dolly had many a nap on those littlegreen beds, all warmly covered up with big sweet-smelling ferns.

Then there was the kitchen! Hardly any moss grew there. Ibrought little white pebbles from the brook, and made a pretty, whitefloor. Into the side of the stump above this shining floor, I drove alarge nail. On this nail hung the little tin pan and iron spoon withwhich I used to mix up my mud pies.

My sister had a stump much like mine, and such fine times as theowners of those two little stump-houses used

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