With the Tonsil Twins gone, nicer visitors came to keep Lucy company.
First came a small toy wooden bunny with ears that moved up and down — one up and one down gave him a most roguish look. Lucy offered him chicken broth (the very best kind, made to build up her strength), and the bunny was extremely pleased. He would have smiled, except he was afraid his wooden face might crack.
Then came a rag doll, lovable and warmly dressed in a knitted hood, sweater, scarf, and little knitted shoes — her best jacket over everything and her apron tucked in so she wouldn’t spoil her good dress while they played.
But Lucy’s oldest companions were a gray felt bunny and a brown felt monkey who had always belonged to her. They hadn’t left her even when she went for the operation — they had stayed with her right up until the last moment, and the monkey had rejoined her as soon as he possibly could. Now he sat with his arm around the bunny, looking thoroughly comfortable.
“I’m laughing up my sleeve,” the monkey told the rabbit.
“But you haven’t got a sleeve,” said the rabbit, puzzled. “And you’re not even turning your mouth that direction. What on earth do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s just an expression,” said the monkey. “It means laughing to yourself, so no one can see. And I am laughing — at the splendid joke played on those wretched Tonsil Twins.”
Just then the grandest visitor of all arrived: Prince Ice-Cream himself, riding in on the most royal of saucers. And at precisely that moment, Susy Sore Throat packed her bags and left for good.
