Perhaps a cat has dragged a homeless doll to Royal Doll Town. It happens every now and then, as plenty of local cats are in contact with RDT. You never know what your cat gets up to while you’re away do you? I mean, if you reside somewhere along the coast of Kent this could be your cat. You know what they say - when the mouse is away the cat will play dress up and cart an anxious abandoned doll to a safe place, where after a rigorous screening, said doll may be granted permanent residency and issued with an official Properlisting Card by the Queen Bees Bulbinella and Bulbarella. These coveted cards appropriately vary in size according to the scale of the resident as you could not possibly expect a teeny tiny penny doll to carry around an official document ten times bigger than herself could you? The cards are quite charming made of beeswax coated wasp-paper veneered to paper-bark with butterfly glue and have the Queen Bees’ properlis seals of approval at the top. The backsides of the cards are finely etched with: "The Terms, Mights and Mightn’ts" of being a resident and is officially bitten by the Termite Queen Antwoinine, not so much as a sign of indenturement but more as a mark of her dental record of authenticity. The Properlisting Card is like a title deed specifying the exact boudoir, apartment, nook or cranny which serves as a particular doll’s official abode and what their official role is. Every dwelling space and social position is meticulously documented, detailed and proportioned within certain gauges like an ideal Quetelet Index by the Bee Queens and their secretaries and sects committees. Their intrinsic knowledge of hive organisation makes them extremely good at the job.
Bears often try their luck at the secret back door, but as Royal Doll Town is predominantly a Dollony, they are cordially advised to seek out the Hundred Acre Wood and speak to Winnie or Piglet. Queen Marcheline flusters about an ursine over flow as there seriously is a stupendous amount of old bear souls bumbling around out there. It’s not to say the odd lone Cudbud hasn’t made its adorably tattered way into the populace of Royal Doll Town, because there are a few happily ensconced, especially if they arrived as the inseparable lifelong bestie of a doll from a disbanded Victorian nursery. It is paramount that the town be kept in balance and overpopulation never allowed. The bear facts I'm afraid. It's briskly off to Pooh corner for them. "Go on! Spit spot!" as the floaty Miss Poppins would say on a hurriedly windy day.