Von dem Buch A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia haben wir 4 gleiche oder sehr ähnliche Ausgaben identifiziert!
Falls Sie nur an einem bestimmten Exempar interessiert sind, können Sie aus der folgenden Liste jenes wählen, an dem Sie interessiert sind:
100%: Amanda Minnie Douglas: A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia (ISBN: 9782819915591) 2011, in Französisch, auch als eBook.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
100%: Amanda Minnie Douglas: A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia (ISBN: 9781497329324) Createspace Independent Publishing Platform, in Englisch, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
100%: Amanda Minnie Douglas: A Little Girl In Old Philadelphia (ISBN: 9781176789074) 2010, Nabu Press, in Englisch, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
88%: Amanda Minnie Douglas: A Little Girl in old Chicago (ISBN: 9781355932048) Palala Press, in Englisch, Broschiert.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia - 2 Angebote vergleichen
Bester Preis: Fr. 1.66 (€ 1.71)¹ (vom 29.10.2017)1
A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia (2011)
FR NW EB DLISBN: 9782819915591 bzw. 2819915590, in Französisch, pubOne.info, pubOne.info, pubOne.info, neu, E-Book, elektronischer Download.
Lieferung aus: Frankreich, in-stock.
pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. She was swinging her gingham sunbonnet, faded beyond any recognition of its pristine coloring, her small hand keeping tight hold of the strings. At every revolution it went swifter and swifter until it seemed a grayish sort of wheel whirling in the late sunshine that sent long shadows among the trees. When she let it go it flew like a great bird, while she laughed sweet, merry childish notes that would have stirred almost any soul. A slim, lithe little maid with a great crop of yellow hair, cut short in the neck, and as we should say now, banged across the forehead. But it was a mass of frowzy curls that seemed full of sunshine.
pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. She was swinging her gingham sunbonnet, faded beyond any recognition of its pristine coloring, her small hand keeping tight hold of the strings. At every revolution it went swifter and swifter until it seemed a grayish sort of wheel whirling in the late sunshine that sent long shadows among the trees. When she let it go it flew like a great bird, while she laughed sweet, merry childish notes that would have stirred almost any soul. A slim, lithe little maid with a great crop of yellow hair, cut short in the neck, and as we should say now, banged across the forehead. But it was a mass of frowzy curls that seemed full of sunshine.
Lade…