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"Whatever shall we do, Mister Wollingsworth?" Molly asked. "Mother will be home shortly, and I've yet to clean my room!"
"Heavens my, heavens me. Don't fret, Molly-Golly. We'll enlist a little help, that's all." Mister Wollingsworth then waddled his little teddy bear body into the center of the room, and called out - in a voice both sweet and strong - to those lying dormant on shelves, in the toybox, under the bed.
"Come now, you lot! Molly-Golly needs our help, and as we're her Guardians, that means we all get cracking! Come on now, shake off those dust bunnies and hop too!"
There then rose a rustle and rumble from all corners of the room, as rocking horse and railway car, bookend and baby doll, toy and game alike all blossomed into impossible life.
"Mister Wollingsworth! But I... I never knew... I thought it was just you! Oh, this is just wonderful!" Molly exclaimed.
"Wonderful? Bah! I was having a nice nap and a nice dream, and now you've gone and woken me up. And for what? Manual labor! That wasn't in the job description, Wollingsworth!" This small, squeaky voice of dissent belonged to one Mousy Maguire, Molly's favorite stuffed animal, and one of the few companions granted the right to sleep on her bed.
"Oh, Mousy! You're alive!" Molly ran to her bed and embraced the nonplussed plushy, squishing his body in a nearly stuffing-bursting bear hug.
"Aggh! Ohh! All right... Enough! Enough! You're... crushing... me!" Molly released her hold and dropped Mousy back on the bed, feeling at once excited and immensely disappointed that her favorite stuffed toy had just come to life... and seemed to be a complete cretin.
"Now you listen here, Maguire!" Wollingsworth said. "Being Guardians of dear Miss Molly-Golly means we protect her in any way we can, even if that means unclogging the potty, or taking out the trash, or, yes, tidying up her room! And when the Crawly Creeps come - oh, and they will come - you'll get to do what was in your 'job description,' you mark my words..."