Once apon a time, their was a lovely young girl.

This little girl had many dolls, many far too precious to play with, but among the pile of those she could use in her games, was a tatty and threadbare rag doll.

She always had use for the rag doll in her play time. The rag doll was a somewhat recent doll, though already loosing bits of stuffing, and patched together more times than a quilt.

As ragged as he was though, the girl always had a part for him, and the rag doll quietly hoped that he might be her favorite.

At times the girl would spurn the tatty rag doll. At times she would hold him closer, if only to use a patch of his cloth, or borrow a button.

Once she even told the rag doll the she liked him, as odd as it made her feel to say it to a bundle of fabric and left over pieces.

But always again and again he was cast aside when her stories and playtimes ended.

And again and again, the rag doll hoped his hopes, and wished his wishes.

Then one day, the girl got a new doll to play with. A better doll than that tatty rag doll.

The rag doll was crushed. Sadly he knew it could not be, down in his lint and stuffing heart.

The rag doll knew that he would still be part of her play, but knew he could never be the favorite toy.

Time went on, and eventually, the rag doll was used up. The girl used all his patches. The girl borrowed all his buttons. All that was left of the little rag doll, was a stray bit of stuffing, promptly thrown away.

The girl never missed the poor little rag doll, and she played happily ever after