“My younger daughter, her name’s Ihogen. She’s six—wants a doll. Acting on the principle that you can’t have too much of a good thing, she wants a doll—so it's no use pointing to those she’s already got. Il's no use going into a shop and asking for one. I’ve tried that. There are just no dolls . . .
so I’ve just stolen one of her eldest dolls, undressed it, knocked blazes out of it by giving it to Petal—that’s my dog—to worry. That gave it a new shape, and then I painted it. I don’t mind betting you two things that Imogen won’t recognise it, and that she I will like it.”—S. P. B. Mais, in a 8.8. C. overseas talk.
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Wairarapa Times-Age, 17 January 1944, Page 2
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119Untitled Wairarapa Times-Age, 17 January 1944, Page 2
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