Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured what appears to be a committee meeting of diminutive plastic figures. The set contains five of the tall, bipedal "Princess" types and, more importantly, their five smaller, more throwable companions. From a purely tactical standpoint, the main appeal lies in the ancillary creatures. The tiny tiger, the lizard, and the fish possess a certain potential for being skittered across the hardwood floors and ultimately lost under the heavy armchair, a game I call "long-term storage." The larger dolls, with their strangely immobile hair and flimsy, removable skirts, seem less like prey and more like silent, judging obstacles. While I appreciate the variety, the overall lack of fur, feathers, or catnip is a significant design flaw that suggests the manufacturer, Mattel, has a poor understanding of its true target audience.
Key Features
- With 5 Disney Princess small dolls and 5 friend figures, this adorable set of characters is ready for storytelling play inspired by Disney movies!
- Includes posable small dolls (3.5 inches) Ariel, Tiana, Belle, Jasmine and Rapunzel. Each doll wears a removable skirt or pants in a unique friendship print.
- Set also includes five character friend figures—one for each Princess: Flounder (Ariel), Ray (Tiana), Chip (Belle), Rajah (Jasmine) and Pascal (Rapunzel)!
- Makes a perfect toy for kids to play out their favorite Disney movie moments or make up their own magical stories!
- Fans can collect all the Disney Princess small dolls and playsets for more adventures! Each sold separately, subject to availability.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The human arranged them on the living room rug in a tableau of such cloying friendship that I felt compelled to investigate. It was clearly an amateur theatrical production, and I, as the resident patron of the arts, was to be the sole critic. The blocking was atrocious. Tiana was conversing with a firefly, Belle was apparently taking advice from a teacup, and a woman with an absurd amount of hair was cooing at a lizard. The entire scene lacked dramatic tension. It was an insult to the stage. My first act of directorial intervention was subtle, a gentle nudge with my nose against the teacup, Chip. He tumbled over with a pathetic, hollow *clink*. A teacup's purpose is to hold liquid, not to offer counsel. This was a necessary correction to restore a semblance of realism to the scene. The human murmured something about me "playing nice," clearly missing the artistic nuance of my work. I ignored her, my gaze sweeping across the remaining cast, searching for the next weak point in the narrative. My eyes landed on the most promising actor in the troupe: the miniature tiger, Rajah. He was positioned next to the woman in blue, a blatant misuse of his predatory gravitas. A tiger does not simply stand around; it stalks, it pounces, it creates action. With a single, perfectly executed flick of my paw, I sent Rajah skidding across the polished floorboards, his plastic form sliding beautifully until it came to rest near the leg of the coffee table. Now *that* was drama. A lone predator, separated from his handler, contemplating his next move in the vast wilderness of the living room. The performance, as originally staged, was a failure. However, with my expert revisions, it showed promise. The smaller figures, liberated from their static roles, became compelling characters in a drama of my own making. The princesses were now merely set dressing, silent witnesses to the thrilling tales of "The Tiger's Journey" and "The Lizard in the Shadows." I will approve this acquisition, but only on the condition that I retain full artistic control. I retired to my napping spot on the sofa, dragging the chameleon, Pascal, with me. He would be my understudy.