Katherine Mansfield's story of a perfect toy, two excluded sisters, and one small lamp.
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Ten words unlock the story. Work through the four short activities — say your answer out loud before you reveal it.
Three words from the story: courtyard · gossip · dare. Match each definition to the right word — out loud, then reveal.
Read each part. After it, there's a quick comprehension check (try the questions from memory first), then one thing to discuss.
When dear old Mrs Hay went back to town after staying with the Burnells, she sent the children a doll's house. It was so big that the carter and Pat carried it into the courtyard and left it propped up on two wooden boxes. No harm could come to it there; the smell of paint would wear off by summer. And it was perfect: dark, oily, spinach green, with two solid little chimneys, glued to the roof, painted red and white, and a door, gleaming with yellow varnish, like a little slab of toffee. The whole house-front swung open, and there you were, gazing at one and the same moment into the drawing-room and dining-room, the kitchen and two bedrooms. All the rooms were papered, with pictures on the walls, painted complete with frames; there were red carpets, tables, beds with real bedclothes, a stove, a dresser with tiny plates and one big jug.
But what Kezia liked more than anything, what she liked frightfully, was the lamp. It stood in the middle of the dining-room table, an exquisite little amber lamp with a white globe. It was even filled, all ready for lighting, though of course you couldn't light it. But there was something inside that looked like oil, and moved when you shook it. The father and mother dolls, sprawling stiffly in the drawing-room, and their two little children asleep upstairs, were really too big for the doll's house. They didn't look as though they belonged. But the lamp was perfect. It seemed to smile at Kezia, to say, "I live here." The lamp was real.
The Burnell children could hardly walk to school fast enough the next morning. They burned to tell everybody, to describe, to — well — to boast about their doll's house before the school-bell rang. "I'm to tell," said Isabel, the eldest, "because I'm the eldest. And I'm to choose who's to come and see it first. Mother said I might." For it had been arranged that while the doll's house stood in the courtyard, the girls might bring their schoolmates, two at a time, to look — not to stay to tea, of course, nor to come traipsing through the house, but just to stand quietly in the courtyard while Isabel pointed out the beauties and Lottie and Kezia looked pleased.
1. What does Kezia love most about the doll's house, and why?
2. What are the rules for showing the house to schoolmates?
1. The little amber lamp with the white globe. Unlike the stiff, too-big dolls, the lamp seems real — it seems to smile and say "I live here."
2. Isabel, as eldest, will do the telling and choose who visits; schoolmates may come two at a time, stand quietly in the courtyard, and look — no tea, no coming inside the real house.
Playtime came, and Isabel was surrounded. The girls of her class nearly fought to put their arms round her, to walk away with her, to beam flatteringly, to be her special friend. Only two stayed outside the ring: the two who were always outside, the little Kelveys. They knew better than to come anywhere near the Burnells. For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind of place their parents would have chosen if there had been any choice. It was the only school for miles, and the consequence was that all the children of the neighbourhood — the Judge's little girls, the doctor's daughters, the storekeeper's children, the milkman's — were forced to mix together. But the line had to be drawn somewhere. It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the children, including the Burnells, were not allowed even to speak to them. They walked past the Kelveys with their heads in the air; and as the Kelveys were shunned by everybody, they were shunned by everybody's children.
They were the daughters of a spry, hardworking little washerwoman, who went about from house to house by the day. This was awful enough. But where was Mr Kelvey? Nobody knew for certain. But everybody said he was in prison. So they were the daughters of a washerwoman and a gaolbird. Very nice company for other people's children! And they looked it. Lil, the elder, came to school in a dress made from a green art-serge tablecloth of the Burnells', with red plush sleeves from the Logans' curtains, and a grown-up woman's hat that had once belonged to the postmistress. Our Else, the younger, wore a long white dress, rather like a nightgown, and a pair of little boy's boots. She was a tiny wishbone of a child, with cropped hair and enormous solemn eyes. Nobody had ever seen her smile; she scarcely ever spoke. She went through life holding on to Lil, a piece of Lil's skirt screwed up in her hand — and wherever Lil went, our Else followed.
Days passed, and the doll's house was the only subject. "Mother," said Kezia, "can't I ask the Kelveys just once?" "Certainly not, Kezia." "But why not?" "Run away, Kezia; you know quite well why not." At last everybody had seen it except them. On that day the girls at lunchtime grew bolder around the Kelveys. Emmie Cole started the whisper: "Lil Kelvey's going to be a servant when she grows up." Then Lena Logan, dancing forward, asked in her sweetest voice: "Is it true you're going to be a servant when you grow up, Lil Kelvey?" Lil only gave her silly, shamefaced smile. And then Lena could bear it no longer and shrieked: "Yah, yer father's in prison!" This was such a marvellous thing to have said that the little girls rushed away in a body, deeply, deeply excited, wild with joy.
1. Why do all the children go to the same school, and where is "the line" drawn?
2. Who are Lil and our Else, and how do the other children treat them at lunchtime?
1. It is the only school for miles, so rich and poor children are forced to mix. The social "line" is drawn at the Kelveys: many children, including the Burnells, are forbidden even to speak to them.
2. The daughters of a washerwoman; their father is said to be in prison. Lil wears clothes made from other families' cast-offs; silent little Else clings to her sister's skirt. At lunchtime the girls taunt Lil about becoming a servant, and Lena shrieks "Yer father's in prison!" — and the group runs off wild with joy.
That same afternoon, the Kelveys came along the road — Lil with her silly smile, our Else holding the skirt — and Kezia was swinging on the big white courtyard gates. She made up her mind. "Hullo," she said. The Kelveys stopped, staring. "You can come and see our doll's house if you want to," said Kezia. But Lil turned red and shook her head. "Your ma told our ma you wasn't to speak to us," she breathed. "Oh, well," said Kezia. "It doesn't matter. You can come and see our doll's house all the same. Come on. Nobody's looking." Lil shook her head still harder — but then our Else tugged twice at her skirt, and looked up with her big, imploring eyes. Lil looked at our Else. Wavering, she followed, like two little stray cats, across the courtyard.
Kezia swung open the front of the house. "There's the drawing-room and the dining-room, and that's the—" "Kezia!" Oh, what a start they gave. "Kezia!" It was Aunt Beryl's voice. It was Aunt Beryl, staring as if she couldn't believe what she saw. "How dare you ask the little Kelveys into the courtyard!" said her cold, furious voice. "You know as well as I do you're not allowed to talk to them. Run away, children, run away at once. And don't come back again," said Aunt Beryl. And she stepped into the yard and shooed them out as if they were chickens. "Off you go immediately!" she called, cold and proud. They did not need telling twice. Burning with shame, shrinking together, Lil huddling along like her mother, our Else dazed, somehow they crossed the big courtyard and squeezed through the white gates. Yet, strange to say, scolding the girls had made Aunt Beryl feel lighter — her own troubles lifted, as if a weight were gone. She went back into the house humming.
When the Kelveys were well out of sight of the Burnells', they sat down to rest on a big red drain-pipe by the side of the road. Lil's cheeks were still burning. Dreamily they looked over the hay paddocks, past the creek, to the group of wattle trees where Logan's cows stood waiting to be milked. What were their thoughts? Presently our Else nudged up close to her sister. She had forgotten the cross lady. She put out a finger and stroked her sister's feather on her hat; she smiled her rare smile. "I seen the little lamp," she said softly. Then both were silent once more.
1. Why does Lil at first refuse Kezia's invitation, and what changes her mind?
2. What is the one thing our Else remembers at the end — and what has she forgotten?
1. Because the ban is absolute — "Your ma told our ma you wasn't to speak to us." Silent little Else tugs twice at her skirt with imploring eyes, and Lil gives in for her sister's sake.
2. The little lamp — "I seen the little lamp," she says, smiling her rare smile. She has forgotten the cross lady: the humiliation has faded, and the one moment of beauty has stayed.
The whole story runs on one prohibition: the children are not allowed to speak to the Kelveys. English has a family of structures for giving and refusing permission — each with its own grammar.
Fill each gap with the correct form of the verb in brackets, following the pattern the sentence needs.
1. The Burnell children were not (allow) to speak to the Kelveys.
2. The mothers would not (let) their daughters go near the washerwoman's girls.
3. Custom (forbid) the two families to mix — and everyone obeyed.
1. allowed (be allowed to + infinitive — the passive pattern)
2. let (let + object + bare infinitive: "let their daughters go")
3. forbade (forbid → forbade, + object + to-infinitive)
Rewrite the idea using the word in brackets. Write only the missing words.
1. Visitors could look at the house from the courtyard. → Visitors look at the house. (allowed)
2. Isabel's mother permitted her to choose the visitors. → Her mother choose the visitors. (let)
3. Nobody could stay to tea — that was against the rules. → Staying to tea was . (forbid)
1. were allowed to (be allowed to + infinitive)
2. let her (let + object + bare infinitive — no "to"!)
3. forbidden (past participle after "was")
Fill each gap with the correct word or form. Read the whole paragraph aloud when you finish.
At the school, rich and poor children were (force) to mix — there was no other school for miles. But the Kelveys were different: the mothers did not (let) their children speak to them, and the girls were not (allow) to even walk beside them. Kezia asked if she could invite them; her mother (refuse) permission. Kezia invited them anyway — and Aunt Beryl shooed the "little Kelveys" out for breaking the (noun: the rule that prohibits).
forced · let · allowed · refused · ban
Notice the pattern differences: let + bare infinitive, be allowed/forced + to-infinitive, and "ban" doing noun duty at the end.
Hold on to these structures — in the Speak tab you'll talk about rules from your own childhood: what you were allowed, what was forbidden, and who decided.
Mansfield wrote this story in 1921, drawing on her own childhood in colonial New Zealand — the Burnells are closely modelled on her family, and there was a real doll's house. She was dying of tuberculosis as she wrote; the stories of these years are short, exact, and merciless.
This is the heart of the lesson — do all of it out loud. The timer is there to keep you going: fill the time with detail rather than racing through it.
Tell the story of The Doll's House in your own words, as if to someone who has never heard it. Move through the arc: the magnificent house and the little lamp → the showings, two visitors at a time → the Kelveys and the ban → the playground cruelty → Kezia at the gate → Aunt Beryl — and the drain-pipe, and the lamp.
Use at least three permission structures (weren't allowed to, wouldn't let them, it was forbidden) and at least five key words (snobbery, excluded, shabby, courtyard, gossip, dare, exquisite, shoo, pride, ban).
In the story, a whole community agrees, without ever voting on it, that one family is beneath everyone else. Build an argument: where do societies today still draw invisible "lines" between people — and who teaches children where they run? Use one concrete example (school, work, housing, accents, brands, anything) and say what would actually erase such a line.
Kezia broke a rule every adult around her enforced. Talk about the rules of your own childhood — what you were allowed and forbidden to do, and how you see those rules now.
Stuck for an idea? Pick one of these and run with it: