“This is Jimsi, my play-niece,” said she, “Jimsi, this is my play-crow, Caw Caw.”
“I’m very happy to know you, Caw Caw,” said Jimsi, entering with spirit into the play. “You’ve always been a friend of mine but I never expected to see you really and truly. I thought you were just pretend, you know—something like Cinderella’s lovely fairy godmother. And yet I always liked to play you were true. I’m glad now that I can play you’re true!”
The crow said nothing, of course. But Aunt Phoebe explained that he didn’t talk much, so the two of them ate supper and talked together, making conversation for the crow the way one plays dolls.
“Will you tell me about The Happy Shop, Mr. Crow?” inquired Jimsi politely of the funny stuffed crow. She could hardly keep her face straight but she hid a smile in her table napkin.
“I’ll have to talk for him,” Aunt Phoebe declared. “Yes, I’ll tell you about The Happy Shop. We’ll go there first thing in the morning. I think you’ll like it. There are ever so many nice things in it but the very _nicest_ is the Magic Book, I think.”
“The Magic Book?” echoed Jimsi. “_What’s _the Magic Book?”
“I’ll show it to you after the Crow goes to roost,” answered Aunt Phoebe. “You mustn’t call him _Mr._ Crow! He doesn’t like it. His name is Caw Caw.”
Perhaps the Crow would have liked corn to eat. I’m afraid Aunt Phoebe’s crow, being just a stuffed play-crow, wouldn’t have eaten corn, though, if he _had_ had it—no, not any more than a doll will eat cake at a party. You have to pretend that the doll eats. So Aunt Phoebe pretended most beautifully to pour out cocoa for the crow—a second cup, mind you! She gave him second helpings of nearly everything and Jimsi followed suit. Indeed, her appetite seemed really pretty good for a little girl who is getting well after a long sickness.
When tea was over, Aunt Phoebe said that they would go to see The Happy Shop, even though it was dark there now. She lit a dainty pink candle and with the Good Crow Caw Caw, they went into the hall.
Just off the hall at the side of the house was Aunt Phoebe’s study. She did ever so many wonderful things there. She wrote books. Maybe that was how Aunt Phoebe came to think up so many jolly things to play. She was almost always making up a story or writing an article for a magazine or _something_. She knew all manner of things and when she didn’t know about them, there were books in the study that could tell—great big books all full of print, books that Aunt Phoebe did not write but books like those in the school library at home. Aunt Phoebe explained all about the books and showed Jimsi her desk and the big typewriter as they passed through into The Happy Shop that opened with glass doors into the study. It was—Oh, it was a little glass room. In the light of the candle, Jimsi could see blooming plants on shelves. There was also a couch and a big table and a chair. On the table, lay a big flat book—ever so big. It was a queer book. In the dark, Jimsi couldn’t see exactly what it was. Aunt Phoebe picked it up and said, “This is the Magic Book, Jimsi! You can’t see what it is like here but we’ll look it over in my study where there is a lamp. Now, we’ll leave Caw Caw here. It’s where he stays at night. In the morning when the plants are watered, I think he must fly off to the Santa Claus land but you’ll find his mail-box here and you can always look for letters in it.” She picked up a small white box that was very like a tiny mail-box. On it was written MAIL. (It looked as if Aunt Phoebe’s own fingers—that were very clever fingers indeed—might have made the toy mail-box for the Good Crow.)