Write a story that ends with indeed charity begins at home where charity means giving

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Mouchette. She was an orphan. Her parents had died in a tragic car accident and she had been abandoned in an orphanage for years. Every day was the same. The women would bring her bland porridge once a day and she had to go to bed and wake up early. There were no games to play, no friends to talk to, and no hope of ever finding a forever home. Sometimes, families would come in and adopt the younger children, but not Mouchette. She was already 13. Nobody would want her. Families usually wanted a boy, if they were to adopt any older kid, at all. Mouchette wasn't strong or helpful. She had fallen ill with pneumonia and she did not receive the right care. Everyone believed that she would die soon and other children at the orphanage avoided her, because they thought she would make them sick.The women who worked there were ill-mannered and only showed up to gossip about their home lives all the time. Unfortunately, poor little Mouchette got no attention at all. That was, until one family showed up. The mother was dressed in a beautiful classic vintage dress, with ruffly sleeves and a long skirt, going down to her slim ankles. The father was dressed in a blue suit with a tie, and they had one child, a girl. Her lovely auburn hair was tied into tight, curly pigtails and she wore a green dress and a bonnet, lined with lace.   The parents held her hands in theirs as they walked by. Mouchette wished she could be that girl. She knew deep in her heart that they wouldn't adopt her, until she saw the family walk up to her. Her heart raced. "Is this the day I find my forever home?", she thought, as she looked up to see a small hand holding out a pink box with a bow on top. To Mouchette's surprise, it was the family's daughter. She had a big smile on her face. "Is this really for me?', Mouchette asked as she felt the tears of hapiness swell up in her eyes. "Of course, silly!", the girl replied. Mouchette took the box from her hands and carefully untied the bow, not wanting to damage the box. Inside the box, was a beautiful china doll that looked just like her. It had the same black hair and blue eyes and a white dress. "She's beautiful, thank you so much!", she cried, as happy tears streamed down her face. The girl smiled and gave Mouchette a hug. The family filled out the adoption form and took Mouchette home. They lived happily ever after.

choose from these types:

the innocent

the orphan

the hero

the caregiver

the explorer

the rebel

it was surely an odd creature that one made up by reading the historians first and the poets afterwards a worm winged like an eagle; the spirit of life and elegance and charm,   in a kitchen chopping up suet. but these creatures, monst'r however entertaining to the imagination, hast no existence in fact. what one might doth to bringeth h'r to life wast to bethink poetically and prosaically at one and the same moment,   thus keeping in toucheth with fact—that the lady is mrs martin, ag'd thirty-six, did dress in blue, wearing a black coxcomb and brown shoeth; but not losing sight of fiction eith'r—that the lady is a vessel in which all s'rts of spirits and f'rces art coursing and flashing p'rpetually. the moment, howev'r, yond one tries this method with the elizabethan mistress, one brancheth of illumination fails; one is did hold up by the scarcity of facts.   one knoweth nothing detailed, nothing p'rfectly true and substantial about h'r.   hist'ry scarcely mentions h'r.   and i did turn to professeth'r trevelyan again to seeth what hist'ry meanteth to that gent.   i hath found by looking at his chapt'r headings yond t meanteth.