Chicken Soup for the Little Souls by Jack Canfield

On Friday after school, I went to see Mr. Mulligan.
    â€œI really need that doll, Mr. Mulligan,” I said. “I have eight dollars and forty-nine cents to pay you right now, and I will help out in your store every weekend until I have paid the rest of the money, which will probably be forever.”
    Mr. Mulligan scratched his head. “After you asked about that doll yesterday, I went to take another look at her. And it’s the darndest thing—she’s more damaged than I thought. One of my workers must have laid her head on some wet wood stain. The back of her hair is just ruined. I don’t know who’s going to pay much for her now. I reckon if you need her that badly, I can consider eight dollars and forty-nine cents a fair price.”
    â€œYou’ve got a deal!” I shouted.
    When Mr. Mulligan took down the doll, and showed me her “ruined” hair, I got the best idea ever!

    The time passed slowly at Miss Maggie’s that afternoon. When she asked me what was in the bag, I told her it was a secret and she mustn’t look inside.
    â€œAren’t you mysterious today?” she teased.

    When I got home, I raced to my room and unwrapped the doll. I took out my brown magic marker. I laid the doll down and spread out her hair on a piece of construction paper.
    Then, very, very carefully, I colored all of her blond hair brown. The stained part disappeared and she was even more like the doll Miss Maggie remembered!

    There was only one thing missing. I took my favorite and only party dress out of my closet and laid it on my bed. There, right at the neck, was a pink satin ribbon.
    I cut it off with my safety scissors, being careful to cut just the threads that held it on, and not the dress. I tied it in the doll’s new brown hair. She was perfect! But what would Mom say when she found out about my dress?

    On Saturday, we went to see Miss Maggie.
    â€œEllie, what a surprise!” she said. For once, I think she meant it.
    Mom and I marched in, singing, “Happy birthday to you . . .” I could hardly wait till the song was over to give Miss Maggie her present!

    Miss Maggie carefully pulled back the tissue paper. When she finally saw the doll, her eyes filled up with tears.
    â€œEllie,” she whispered, “where on Earth . . . ”
    â€œIs she like the doll that got broken?” I asked.
    â€œShe is exactly like my doll,” Miss Maggie said, without once taking her eyes off the present. “But where did you ever find her and how did you ever afford her?”

    Mom was looking at me like she wanted to know the same thing, so I told them both the whole story. When I got to the part about my dress, I asked Mom, “Are you mad?”
    Mom squeezed my hand and her voice cracked when she told me, “No, sugar, I’m not mad.”
    A tear ran down Miss Maggie’s face and she said, “Now I know how it is possible that this doll looks just like the one I held in my arms exactly eighty years ago today. Both dolls were gotten from pure love. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.”

    The cake was delicious, and Miss Maggie said it was her favorite birthday yet.

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    copyright © 2012 Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC, Lisa McCourt, Pat Grant Porter, Bert Dodson, and Mary O’Keefe Young
    ISBN: 978-1-4532-8029-4 (ePub)
    Cover design by Andrea C. Uva
    This 2012