juvenile rebellion

Scarred

Scarred

The following day was my birthday. I would be five. Daddy had said that, as I was now a big girl he had decided I was old enough to get a very special present. I wondered what on earth it could possibly be. I thought and thought. I loved my dolls and the miniature cot that Dad had made for me. I neither needed nor wanted another doll. Mummy let me use the pretty little china tea set that had been hers when she was little and my cousin had given me her dolls' pram.

What could it be?

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