Tea Party

“We should play tea party!”

Marigold carefully picked up her dolls one by one and placed them in her tiny red wagon, arranged by shoe size and skirt width.

“Don’t take it personally, Mrs. Pinky,” she said as she shoved her least favorite doll into the back. “At least you get to come along, unlike Mrs. Blue.” She cast a pointed frown at the dowdy doll sitting a few meters away in the grass.

The ragged doll merely watched as Marigold made her way toward the forest, a wicker basket in the crook of her arm, pulling a squeaky red wagon behind her.

Filtered through the canopy, the sunlight came in patches; Marigold tried to follow the lighter paths—she would need plenty of light for her tea party. After a few minutes, she stumbled upon an open area, with a lovely rock circle already set up for her.

“How perfect!” she said, smiling back at the dolls in her wagon. She spread her small checkered blanket in the circle’s center and set out her teacups and biscuits. There appeared to be a stone for each doll, including herself.

Marigold was careful about her seating arrangements. Ms. Sunny and Ms. Tangerine sat next to each other (since they were in love); Mrs. Scarlet sat across from Ms. Mint so that the two wouldn’t fight; and Ms. Violet took the stone with the most shade (she wasn’t picky about who sat next to her).

“Oh, no! There’s no room for you, Mrs. Pinky.” Marigold sent the doll a sad look. “If I put you on this stone, there won’t be room for me!”

Now, Marigold wasn’t usually a mischievous girl, but today she was feeling particularly mean. She looked around the circle and spotted a mud puddle just outside the ring of stones. “Looks like you’ll have to sit there, ma’am!”

She carelessly tossed Mrs. Pinky into the mud and took her place at the head of the circle.

“Don’t you ladies look lovely today! Allow me to pour the tea.”

Each doll in the circle got a cup of tea and a biscuit, but by the time she reached Pinky, all Marigold had left were the tea leaves. “I guess you can have these,” she said, wrinkling her nose and dumping the pot’s contents onto the doll.

She turned her attention back to the circle. “Oh! I nearly forgot! Saucers!”

Marigold had watched her mother host elaborate tea parties, and she’d never understood why the women needed smaller plates to hold under their tea cups. Nonetheless, she assumed it was for the best that she oblige the norm, lest she break some sort of unspoken tea party taboo.

She distributed cups around the circle, but as she passed by Mrs. Pinky, she slipped on a rock and tripped onto the saucers in her hand. The tiny plates broke, and the shattered china bore into her hands. Crying out, she pushed herself away from the ceramic mess.

Blood dribbled from the crevices of her palms. Marigold wrinkled her nose and looked around for something to soak up the blood. She couldn’t wipe her hands on the checkered blanket—her mother would punish her for that. Without a second thought, she took up Mrs. Pinky’s skirt and rubbed at her cuts.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said. “But I’m quite sure it was your fault, after all. You tripped me!” Marigold narrowed her eyes at the doll. “On purpose?”

The doll stared blankly at her. Marigold drew her eyebrows together and shook the doll, letting its head wobble on its shoulders. “Look what you’ve done!” Marigold gestured toward the shattered saucers. She pulled the dress off the doll to wipe her nose and brush dirt from her lap. Then, she took the disrobed Mrs. Pinky and examined the delicate stitching holding her limbs together.

“Why, I don’t think you’re going to last a month, anyway.” Marigold picked at the seams and tugged away the loose threads. Mrs. Pinky’s arm fell off, then a leg followed. Marigold dug her fingers into the stuffing and pulled loose some cotton, letting it flutter away in the breeze.

Feeling a bit better, and properly cleaned up, Marigold tossed the dismembered doll back into the mud and rejoined the circle.

“Ladies! So sorry about the delay. It looks like we will have to forego the saucers today.” Marigold smiled charmingly, just as she’d seen her mother smile in a crisis. “But do not trouble yourselves.”

The dolls didn’t seem to mind the lack of saucers, so Marigold picked up her biscuit and nibbled at it daintily. “So, friends, any news to share?”

“Actually, yes! One of our best friends was heartlessly murdered this morning.”

Marigold screamed as Ms. Sunny stood up and kicked over her cup of tea.

“We thought the murderer was our friend!” Ms. Tangerine took Ms. Sunny’s hand and stood next to her. “She was supposed to take care of us!”

In a voice much lower and raspier than Marigold had ever imagined, Mrs. Scarlett spoke up. “We won’t let the same thing happen to us!” The doll leapt at the girl, a shard of broken china in her hand. She raked the ceramic down Marigold’s face, cutting the girl from her temple to her lip.

Ms. Mint and Ms. Violet followed, holding shards of their own. Marigold pushed the doll’s back, but they still scratched her arms and legs. One doll tripped her from behind, then the entire group was on top of her, scratching and pulling. Marigold screamed and batted her arms, but the dolls moved too quickly. One got a clump of Marigold’s hair. Another tore away her collar.

Marigold’s eyes had just started to fog over, when a dainty hand clasped hers and yanked her backwards, out of the circle. The dolls hissed, but they didn’t seem willing to stray past the ring of stones.

“You know what she did!”

“Don’t help her! Push her back in the circle!”

Marigold whimpered and turned to her rescuer. Mrs. Blue gazed back at her with steady eyes.

“We all make mistakes,” Mrs. Blue whispered.

Tears dribbled down Marigold’s cheeks. “I didn’t know!” she wailed. “I wouldn’t have hurt any of them!”

“I know. You can’t fix it now. Come with me.”

The doll took the girl’s hand and led her away from the others trapped in the circle. Marigold didn’t think to ask why this doll wasn’t bound to the ring of stones. She was too tired, and she dragged her feet slowly.

Darkness settled in the forest, and Marigold grew weary. As she walked, she began to feel smaller. The doll in front of her looked large and comforting—Mrs. Blue would always take care of her, Marigold thought.

It wasn’t until they reached the cave that Marigold realized they weren’t going back to her house. “Where are we?”

“Sleep now,” Mrs. Blue said softly, letting Marigold fall back into a patch of moss.

...

The next morning, Marigold woke up to the squeak of a small red wagon’s wheels. She looked around and realized that there were other little girls in the cave, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Mrs. Blue smiled at the girls. She loomed over them, taller than ever. “We should play tea party!” she exclaimed.

One by one, she examined the girls’ shoes and skirts, and placed them in the wagon. Marigold was second to last to be picked up. Mrs. Blue frowned and placed her in the back.

“Don’t take it personally, Ms. Marigold,” she said. “At least you get to come along.”