And there was one picture of a very pretty little girl with long curls tied tightly back from her forehead and wearing a long dress and queer pantaloons which reached to her shoe-tops.Raggedy Ann has endeared herself to young readers for a century – both as a rag doll toy with button eyes and red yarn hair and as the character of a bounty of stories by the late Johnny Gruelle (1880–1938). In an old leather bag she found a number of tin-types of queer looking men and women in old-fashioned clothes. There was a funny little bonnet with long white ribbons. It was quite dark back there, so when Marcella had pulled a large bundle of things from the barrel she took them over to the dormer window where she could see better. “I wonder what is in that barrel, ‘way back in the corner?” she thought, as she jumped from the sofa and climbed over two dusty trunks to the barrel standing back under the eaves. One day when Marcella was up in the attic and had played with the old spinning wheel until she had grown tired of it, she curled up on an old horse-hair sofa to rest. Marcella liked to play up in the attic at Grandma’s quaint old house, ‘way out in the country, for there were so many old forgotten things to find up there. So, to the millions of children and grown-ups who have loved a Rag Doll, I dedicate these stories of Raggedy Ann. Who knows but that Fairyland is filled with old, lovable Rag Dolls-soft, loppy Rag Dolls who ride through all the wonders of Fairyland in the crook of dimpled arms, snuggling close to childish breasts within which beat hearts filled with eternal sunshine. The more you become torn, tattered and loose-jointed, Rag Dolls, the more you are loved by children. No wonder Rag Dolls are the best beloved! You are so kindly, so patient, so lovable. What lessons of kindness and fortitude you might teach could you but talk you with your wisdom of fifty-nine years. What joy and happiness you have brought into this world!Īnd no matter what treatment you have received, how patient you have been! What adventures you must have had, Raggedy! True, she has been nibbled by mice, who have made nests out of the soft cotton with which she has been stuffed, but Raggedy smiled just as broadly when the mice nibbled at her, for her smile is painted on. There she sits, a trifle loppy and loose-jointed, looking me squarely in the face in a straightforward, honest manner, a twinkle where her shoe-button eyes reflect the electric light.Įvidently Raggedy has been to a “tea party” today, for her face is covered with chocolate.
The same Raggedy Ann with which my mother played when a child. As I write this, I have before me on my desk, propped up against the telephone, an old rag doll.
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