Tootie: [about her doll] I expect she won't live through the night. She has four fatal diseases.
Mr. Neely: And it only takes one.
Tootie: But she's gonna have a beautiful funeral in a cigar box my Papa gave me, all wrapped in silver paper.
Mr. Neely: That's the way to go if you have to go.
Tootie: Oh, she has to go.
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