Let me begin with Chapter One . . .

It was dusk-winter dusk. Snow lay white and shining over the pleated hills, and icicles hung from the forest trees.
These two very old people are the father and mother of Mr. Bucket. Their names are Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine.
This is a novel written about dolls in a dolls' house. The chief person in it is Tottie Plantaganet, a small Dutch doll.
It was hard to understand Barney with the air tubes up his nose. It made his voice sound funny and he couldn't talk very loud.
The man waiting at the station when she first stepped off the train was the tallest person she had ever seen.
When, suddenly, on an ordinary Wednesday, it seemed to Barney that the world tilted and ran downhill in all directions, he knew he was about to be haunted again.
Polly sighed and laid her book face down on her bed. She rather thought she had read it after all, some time ago.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
Maria was ten years old. She had dark hair in two pigtails, and brown eyes the color of marmite, but more shiny.
It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought.
12th DAY OF SETEMBER
I am commanded to write an account of my days: I am bit by fleas and plagued by family. That is all there is to say.