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A few years ago I was sort of getting to the end of ideas for dolls which were different but fortunately and quite by accident a new idea came to me. We were traveling through Vermont and visited the museum at Shelburne. Every building and its contents, every exhibit was simply fascinating and when we came to the antique doll collection I was all agog and had to be dragged away. But I had the idea; I would make my own Christmas dolls, and I did.

I had read, quite vaguely, about dried fruit dolls but could find very little information about making them so, by guess and by gosh, I went seriously to work. For the heads, I selected firm, green apples or pears (the pears darken more than the apples) peeled them carefully so that no ridges showed and removed the stem and blow end.

The eight-, or ten-gage copper wire which I use for the body must be looped as shown (Figure 1) and must measure the full length of the completed doll; approximately eleven or twelve inches; the long ends forming the legs. It is pushed through the apple or pear, the loop being snugly fitted into the depression left after removal of the stem. I carve the face roughly with a kitchen knife or any sharp tool much as one would carve a jack-o'-lantern; maybe a slash or two across the forehead to be sure of wrinkles later on. Then the apple is completely submerged into pure lemon juice for several minutes and hung upside down by the wire and left to dry for at least a month.

WHILE THE apple is in the process of dehydrating I Insert eyes—small nails with rounded heads, pearl tapioca, whole pepper seeds or things of that nature, touching them up with color later. The fruit will shrink about fifty per cent and will discolor slightly, taking on the wrinkled, leathery appearance found in the faces of many older people. I pinch the apples gently once in a while and one quickly learns to tell when they are thoroughly dry. My idea had been right along to make female dolls but I had not reckoned that "they" could be such determined people for right about this stage they decided for themselves their gender and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was putty in their hands.

There is usually a depression in the top of the head where the wire loop is which I fill with plastic wood, and sometimes it is necessary to fill in scrawny necks but the dried wood blends well with their "skin." The arms which are formed with more copper wire are firmly fastened with smaller wire just below the neck and bent into the proper shape and cut to the desired length in proportion to the body. (Figure 2). In the meantime I fashion hands and feet (Figure 3) of pottery clay, open at the wristband and ankles so that the wire can be pushed inside. Holes are made in the sides through which smaller wire is used to fasten them securely. I fire my own clay pieces but any potter would be willing to fire them for you. Later I paint the hands skin color. If one cared, they could be glazed and fired again, taking on a high gloss.

Then, I wind (Figure 4) the whole body with cotton or sheet wadding, making some busty or paunchy, some thin. At all times I use plenty of adhesive tape to mound the contours after which I carefully sew knit stockinet material over the entire body; they look and feel firm at this stage.

But no hair! Some of the men choose to be bald so I slather some liquid cement or glue around the sides and back of their heads, stick on cut, short pieces of wool or cotton yarn and after it is dry give him the desired haircut. I do the same for whiskers, mustaches and eyebrows. If a man wants a real heavy head of hair I let him have it his way. White or grey is, naturally, the best and they, fortunately for me, all agree.

For the women, whom I like to do best, I make wigs of wool yarn, embroidery floss (which is really slick) or real hair which I make from switches which can be obtained at many dime stores. The women are rather fussy about their hair-do's; some want an up sweep, some a part with a pug in the neck, or some hold out for braids. They all want some kind of an ornament; fancy hairpins or side combs. And I try to please them.

NOW THE dolls are ready to be dressed and how they needle me until I get going. This is the most exciting time of all. First, the underwear. They are all naturally very modest and do not object to the long ruffled drawers and the full, flouncy petticoats I make for them. But they are very particular and fussy about styles and colors which are becoming. You see, they have waited a long, long time for a dress and they may never have another. Previously I had shopped carefully for dainty prints and colors that had been popular about the turn of the century and my friends had unearthed some choice tidbits from their rag bags which my girls just adore: Lace, soutache, rickrack, ribbons and velvet. And they all like pretty buttons, bracelets, rings and lockets, chatelaine purses, handkerchiefs and even fans. They seem to belong to the fancywork era; some knit, tat, hemstitch or crochet. This means glasses for some, so for them I formed wire into frames and they immediately went to work.

The men are gay old blades; they adore brightly colored sport shirts, plaid hunting jackets, bow ties and neat, trim slacks. Almost all of them smoke pipes, which makes a little job for my husband and his jackknife; occasionally one smokes cigarettes but none of them chews or uses snuff. They keep abreast with the times; read the daily papers, Esquire, and I must confess the glamour magazines. Several of the men and a few of the women wear dentures, and not graciously either, constantly grumbling about them and, more often than not, I find them hidden away in a glass of water, out of sight. But they scamper for them if they see company coming.

They're a chatty group; in fact there are times when they yackity-yack so much I have to shush them. They talk about the good old days, the horrible way their grandchildren are being raised, those awful Democrats (you see, they're all New Englanders) and on and on. But when my friends come to call, I can't get a yip out of them.

But they have been a lot of fun; they are a lot of fun and, as we grow older together, I know that I'm the only one who will change appreciably. But if I can only stay as happy and as young in heart as they, I'll be content to shrivel up, climb up on the mantel beside them and settle down for a good, long lifetime visit.

THESE DOLLS, given names pertaining to apples—the Dutchess, Mr. McIntosh, Miss Baldwin, etc., were displayed in an attractive setting captioned "The Genesis of the Apply Family" and shown at the Arts and Crafts exhibit in Malone, New York, my home, last fall They aroused much interest among the hundreds of people of all ages, both men and women who attended the affair. A great many returned to see them again and asked many questions, which, of course, pleased me. Without exception they were reminded of some old person they had known.

Last spring while in California I was asked to show and explain the technique of the doll to an adult education group in crafts at Marin College. The women were intensely interested and we received many compliments.

The dolls make an outstanding gift to the collector or to a discriminating child. Those which I have sold were requested by friends and collectors, the price being $10 each or $17.50 for a pair.