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.
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Folks'
Christmas Stories and Plays
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Title: Little Folks' Christmas Stories and Plays

Editor: Ada M. Skinner

Release date: June 3, 2016 [eBook #52231]

Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Chuck Greif and the Online

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FOLKS'

CHRISTMAS STORIES AND PLAYS ***
 LITTLE FOLKS’ CHRISTMAS
STORIES AND PLAYS

Little Folks’ Christmas

Stories and Plays
Edited by
Ada M. Skinner

RAND McNALLY & COMPANY

CHICAGO NEW YORK

Copyright, 1915,
By Rand McNally & Company

The Rand-McNally Press

Chicago

CHRISTMAS TIME
 “I have always thought of Christmas time ... as a good time; a kind,
forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time ... when men and women
seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely ...; and I say, God
bless it!”
Charles Dickens

A FOREWORD
The selections in Little Folks’ Christmas Stories and Plays emphasize
the joy expressed by “good will toward men” and the abundant life
suggested by “peace on earth.” Some of the stories and legends will appeal
to the child’s interest because they are filled with the spirit of fun and jollity
which is always associated with Christmas merrymaking; other selections
affirm the spiritual blessings which the birth of the Christ Child brought to
the children of men.
The young reader’s enjoyment is enhanced and his interest quickened if
he can begin to read his book without the aid of an interpreter. Therefore the
stories and poems in this volume are arranged in two groups: Part I includes
those selections which are simple enough in theme and form to be read by
the child; Part II is made up of more complex stories and poems, which the
story-teller may read aloud or relate to the young listener.
My thanks are due to the following authors and publishers who have
allowed reprints from their works: Maud Lindsay for permission to use
“The Promise”; Richard Thomas Wyche for “A Boy’s Visit to Santa Claus”;
Ruth Sawyer for “The Christmas Kings”; Mrs. Richard Watson Gilder for
permission to use the poem, “The Christmas Tree in the Nursery,” by
Richard Watson Gilder; Mary Stewart for “The Finding of the Treasure”;
Raymond MacDonald Alden for “In the Great Walled Country”; Edmund
Vance Cooke for “Going to Meet Santa Claus”; Alma J. Foster for her
translation of “Cosette” by Victor Hugo; L. Frank Baum and The Delineator
for “Kidnaping Santa Claus”; Emma A. Schaub for her translation of
“Christmasland” by Heinrich Seidel; Margaret Deland and Moffat Yard &
Company, publishers, for permission to use the poem, “While Shepherds
Watched their Flocks by Night”; Milton Bradley Company for “The
Christmas Cake” from Mother Stories by Maud Lindsay; A. Flanagan
Company for the selection, “The Stars and the Child,” from Child’s Christ
Tales by Andrea Hofer Proudfoot; the Pilgrim Press for “The Visit of the
Wishing Man,” from The City that Never was Reached by J. T. Stocking;
The Macmillan Company for a selection from Serapion Brethren by E. Th.
Hoffmann; Dr. Washington Gladden and the Century Co. for “The Strange
Adventures of a Wood Sled”; the Contemporary Review for “A Florentine
Legend of Christmas” by Vernon Lee; the Packer Institute of Brooklyn for
the adaptation of the mystery play, “The Star in the East,” and to Abbie
Farwell Brown and Houghton Mifflin Co. for the selection, “A Blessing.”
Grateful acknowledgment is also made to Miss Elizabeth A. Herrick and
Miss Anda G. Morin for valuable suggestions given during the compilation
of these stories.
Ada M. Skinner
St. Agatha School,
New York City, N. Y.

CONTENTS
PAGE
A Foreword vii

Part I. Stories Children Can Read

Christmas at the Hollow Tree Inn 3
The Promise 12
A Boy’s Visit to Santa Claus 18
The Christmas Kings 28
The Christmas Cake 39
The Doll’s Wish 43
The Christmas Spruce Tree 48
A Little Roman Shepherd 52
The Christmas Tree in the Nursery 57
The Stars and the Child 59
The Stranger Child 61
The Star Song 63
The Visit of the Wishing Man 64
Kriss Kringle 80
The Star of Bethlehem 81
Nutcracker and Mouse King 83
A Visit from St. Nicholas 104
Christmas in Many Lands 108

Part II. Stories to Read and Tell to Children

Selection from the Bible: Luke ii, 8-20 125
The Finding of the Treasure 127
The Meaning of the Star 140
While Shepherds watched their Flocks by Night 142
The Great Walled Country 144
Going to Meet Christmas 155
A Legend of St. Boniface 166
Cosette’s Christmas Eve 171
The Strange Adventures of a Wood Sled 192
Kidnapping Santa Claus 217
Christmasland 235
A Christmas Legend 258
The Star in the East 265
A Blessing 276
 Part I

STORIES CHILDREN CAN READ

LITTLE FOLKS’ CHRISTMAS

STORIES AND PLAYS
CHRISTMAS AT THE HOLLOW TREE INN[1]

ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

Once upon a time, when the Robin, and Turtle, and Squirrel, and Jack
Rabbit had all gone home for the winter, nobody was left in the Hollow
Tree except the ’Coon and the ’Possum and the old black Crow. Of course
the others used to come back and visit them pretty often, and Mr. Dog, too,
now that he had got to be good friends with all the Deep Woods people, and
they thought a great deal of him when they got to know him better. Mr. Dog
told them a lot of things they had never heard of before, things that he’d
learned at Mr. Man’s house, and maybe that’s one reason why they got to
liking him so well.
He told them about Santa Claus, for one thing, and how the old fellow
came down the chimney on Christmas Eve to bring presents to Mr. Man and
his children, who always hung up their stockings for them, and Mr. Dog
said that once he had hung up his stocking, too, and got a nice bone in it,
that was so good he had buried and dug it up again as much as six times
before spring. He said that Santa Claus always came to Mr. Man’s house,
and that whenever the children hung up their stockings they were always
sure to get something in them.
Well, the Hollow Tree people had never heard of Santa Claus. They
knew about Christmas, of course, because everybody, even the cows and
sheep, knows about that; but they had never heard of Santa Claus. You see,
Santa Claus only comes to Mr. Man’s house, but they didn’t know that,
either, so they thought if they just hung up their stockings he’d come there,
too, and that’s what they made up their minds to do. They talked about it a
great deal together, and Mr. ’Possum looked over all his stockings to pick
out the biggest one he had, and Mr. Crow he made himself a new pair on
purpose. Mr. ’Coon said he never knew Mr. Crow to make himself such big
stockings before, but Mr. Crow said he was getting old and needed things
bigger, and when he loaned one of his new stockings to Mr. ’Coon, Mr.
’Coon said, “That’s so,” and that he guessed they were about right after all.
They didn’t tell anybody about it at first, but by and by they told Mr. Dog
what they were going to do, and when Mr. Dog heard it he wanted to laugh
right out. You see, he knew Santa Claus never went anywhere except to Mr.
Man’s house, and he thought it would be a great joke on the Hollow Tree
people when they hung up their stockings and didn’t get anything.
But by and by Mr. Dog thought about something else. He thought it
would be too bad, too, for them to be disappointed that way. You see, Mr.
Dog liked them all now, and when he had thought about that a minute he
made up his mind to do something. And this is what it was—he made up his
mind to play Santa Claus!
He knew just how Santa Claus looked, ’cause he’d seen lots of his
pictures at Mr. Man’s house, and he thought it would be great fun to dress
up that way and take a bag of presents to the Hollow Tree while they were
all asleep and fill up the stockings of the ’Coon and ’Possum and the old
black Crow. But first he had to be sure of some way of getting in, so he said
to them he didn’t see how they could expect Santa Claus, their chimneys
were so small, and Mr. Crow said they could leave their latchstring out
downstairs, which was just what Mr. Dog wanted. Then they said they were
going to have all the folks that had spent the summer with them over for
Christmas dinner and to see the presents they had got in their stockings.
They told Mr. Dog to drop over, too, if he could get away, and Mr. Dog said
he would, and went off laughing to himself, and ran all the way home
because he felt so pleased at what he was going to do.
Well, he had to work pretty hard, I tell you, to get things ready. It wasn’t
so hard to get the presents as it was to rig up his Santa Claus dress. He
found some long wool out in Mr. Man’s barn for his white whiskers, and he
put some that wasn’t so long on the edges of his overcoat and boot tops and
around an old hat he had. Then he borrowed a big sack he found out there,
too, and fixed it up to swing over his back, just as he had seen Santa Claus
do in the picture. He had a lot of nice things to take along. Three tender
young chickens he’d borrowed from Mr. Man, for one thing, and then he
bought some new neckties for the Hollow Tree folks all around, and a big
striped candy cane for each one, because candy canes always looked well
sticking out of a stocking. Besides all that, he had a new pipe for each, and
a package of tobacco. You see, Mr. Dog lived with Mr. Man, and didn’t ever
have to buy much for himself, so he had always saved his money. He had
even more things than that, but I can’t remember just now what they were;
and when he started out, all dressed up like Santa Claus, I tell you his bag
was pretty heavy, and he almost wished before he got there that he hadn’t
started with quite so much.
It got heavier and heavier all the way, and he was glad enough to get
there and find the latchstring out. He set his bag down to rest a minute
before climbing the stairs, and then opened the doors softly and listened. He
didn’t hear a thing except Mr. Crow and Mr. ’Coon and Mr. ’Possum
breathing pretty low, and he knew they might wake up any minute, and he
wouldn’t have been caught there in the midst of things for a good deal. So
he slipped up just as easy as anything, and when he got up in the big parlor
room he almost had to laugh right out loud, for there were the stockings
sure enough, all hung up in a row, and a card with a name on it over each
one telling whom it belonged to.
Then he listened again, and all at once he jumped and held his breath, for
he heard Mr. ’Possum say something. But Mr. ’Possum was only talking in
his sleep, and saying, “I’ll take another piece, please,” and Mr. Dog knew
he was dreaming about the mince pie he’d had for supper.
So, then he opened his bag and filled the stockings. He put in mixed
candy and nuts and little things first, and then the pipes and tobacco and
candy canes, so they’d show at the top, and hung a nice dressed chicken
outside. I tell you, they looked fine! It almost made Mr. Dog wish he had a
stocking of his own there to fill, and he forgot all about them waking up,
and sat down in a chair to look at the stockings. It was a nice rocking chair,
and over in a dark corner where they wouldn’t be apt to see him, even if one
of them did wake up and stick his head out of his room, so Mr. Dog felt
pretty safe now, anyway. He rocked softly, and looked and looked at the
nice stockings, and thought how pleased they’d be in the morning, and how
tired he was. You’ve heard about people being as tired as a dog; and that’s
just how Mr. Dog felt. He was so tired he didn’t feel a bit like starting
home, and by and by—he never did know how it happened—but by and by
Mr. Dog went sound asleep right there in his chair, with all his Santa Claus
clothes on.
And there he sat, with his empty bag in his hand and the nice full
stockings in front of him all night long. Even when it came morning and
began to get light Mr. Dog didn’t know it; he just slept right on, he was that
tired. Then pretty soon the door of Mr. ’Possum’s room opened and he
poked out his head. And just then the door of Mr. ’Coon’s room opened and
he poked out his head. Then the door of the old black Crow opened and out
poked his head. They all looked toward the stockings, and they didn’t see
Mr. Dog, or even each other, at all. They saw their stockings, though, and
Mr. ’Coon said all at once:
“Oh, there’s something in my stocking!”
And then Mr. Crow says: “Oh, there’s something in my stocking, too!”
And Mr. ’Possum says: “Oh, there’s something in all our stockings!”
And with that they gave a great hurrah all together, and rushed out and
grabbed their stockings and turned around just in time to see Mr. Dog jump
right straight up out of his chair, for he did not know where he was the least
bit in the world.
“Oh, there’s Santa Claus himself!” they all shouted together, and made a
rush for their rooms, for they were scared almost to death. But it all dawned
on Mr. Dog in a second, and he commenced to laugh and hurrah to think
what a joke it was on everybody. And when they heard Mr. Dog laugh they
knew him right away, and they all came up and looked at him, and he had to
tell just what he’d done and everything; so they emptied out their stockings
on the floor and ate some of the presents and looked at the others, until they
almost forgot about breakfast, just as children do on Christmas morning.
Then Mr. Crow said, all at once, that he’d make a little coffee, and that
Mr. Dog must stay and have some, and by and by they made him promise to
spend the day with them and be there when the Robin and the Squirrel and
Mr. Turtle and Jack Rabbit came, which he did.
And it was snowing hard outside, which made it a nicer Christmas than
if it hadn’t been, and when all the others came they brought presents, too.
And when they saw Mr. Dog dressed up as Santa Claus and heard how he’d
gone to sleep and been caught, they laughed and laughed. And it snowed so
hard that they had to stay all night, and after dinner they sat around the fire
and told stories. And they had to stay the next night, too, and all that
Christmas week. And I wish I could tell you all that happened that week,
but I can’t, because I haven’t time. But it was the very nicest Christmas that
ever was in the Hollow Tree, or in the Big Deep Woods anywhere.

THE PROMISE[2]

MAUD LINDSAY

There was once a harper who played such beautiful music and sang such
beautiful songs that his fame spread throughout the whole land; and at last
the king heard of him and sent messengers to bring him to the palace.
“I will neither eat nor sleep till I have seen your face and heard the sound
of your harp.” This was the message the king sent to the harper.
The messengers said it over and over until they knew it by heart, and
when they reached the harper’s house they called:
“Hail, harper! Come out and listen, for we have something to tell you
that will make you glad.”
But when the harper heard the king’s message he was sad, for he had a
wife and a child and a little brown dog; and he was sorry to leave them and
they were sorry to have him go.
“Stay with us,” they begged; but the harper said:
“I must go, for it would be discourtesy to disappoint the king; but as sure
as holly berries are red and pine is green, I will come back by Christmas
Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding, and sing the Christmas
songs by my own fireside.”
And when he had promised this he hung his harp upon his back and went
away with the messengers to the king’s palace.
When he got there the king welcomed him with joy, and many things
were done in his honor. He slept on a bed of softest down and ate from a
plate of gold at the king’s own table; and when he sang everybody and
everything, from the king himself to the mouse in the palace pantry, stood
still to listen.
 No matter what he was doing, however, feasting or resting, singing or
listening to praises, he never forgot the promise that he had made to his
wife and his child and his little brown dog, and when the day before
Christmas came, he took his harp in his hand and went to tell the king good-
by.
Now the king was loath to have the harper leave him, and he said to him:
“I will give you a horse as white as milk, as glossy as satin, and as fleet as a
deer, if you will stay to play and sing before my throne on Christmas Day.”
But the harper answered, “I cannot stay, for I have a wife and a child and
a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas
Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs
by my own fireside.”
Then the king said, “If you will stay to play and sing before my throne
on Christmas Day, I will give to you a wonderful tree that summer or winter
is never bare; and silver and gold will fall for you whenever you shake this
little tree.”
But the harper said, “I must not stay, for my wife and my child and my
little brown dog are waiting for me, and I have promised them to be at
home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing
the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”
Then the king said, “If you will stay on Christmas Day one tune to play
and one song to sing, I will give you a velvet robe to wear, and you may sit
beside me here with a ring on your finger and a crown on your head.”
But the harper answered, “I will not stay, for my wife and my child and
my little brown dog are watching for me; and I have promised them to be at
home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding, and sing
the Christmas songs by my own fireside.” And he wrapped his old cloak
about him, and hung his harp upon his back, and went out from the king’s
palace without another word.
He had not gone far when the little white snowflakes came fluttering
down from the skies.

“Harper, stay,” they seemed to say,

“Do not venture out to-day.”
 But the harper said, “The snow may fall, but I must go, for I have a wife
and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home
by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the
Christmas songs by my own fireside.”
Then the snow fell thick and the snow fell fast. The hills and the valleys,
the hedges and hollows were white. The paths were all hidden, and there
were drifts like mountains on the king’s highway. The harper stumbled and
the harper fell, but he would not turn back; and as he traveled he met the
wind.

“Brother Harper, turn, I pray;

Do not journey on to-day,”

sang the wind, but the harper would not heed.

“Snows may fall and winds may blow, but I must go on,” he said, “for I
have a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to
be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and
sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”
Then the wind blew an icy blast. The snow froze on the ground and the
water froze in the rivers. The harper’s breath froze in the air, and icicles as
long as the king’s sword hung from the rocks by the king’s highway. The
harper shivered and the harper shook, but he would not turn back; and by
and by he came to the forest that lay between him and his home.
The trees of the forest were creaking and bending in the wind, and every
one of them seemed to say:

“Darkness gathers, night is near;

Harper, stop! Don’t venture here.”

But the harper would not stop. “Snows may fall, winds may blow, and
night may come, but I have promised to be at home by Christmas Day to eat
my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my
own fireside. I must go on.”
And on he went till the last glimmer of daylight faded, and there was
darkness everywhere. But the harper was not afraid of the dark.
“If I cannot see I can sing,” said he, and he sang in the forest joyously:
 “Sing glory, glory, glory!
And bless God’s holy name;
For’t was on Christmas morning
The little Jesus came.

“He wore no robes. No crown of gold

Was on His head that morn;
But herald angels sang for joy
To tell a King was born.”

The snow ceased its falling, the wind ceased its blowing, the trees of the
forest bowed down to listen, and lo! dear children, as he sang the darkness
turned to wondrous light, and close at hand the harper saw the open
doorway of his home.
The wife and the child and the little brown dog were watching and
waiting, and they welcomed the harper with great joy. The holly berries
were red in the Christmas wreaths; their Christmas tree was a young green
pine; the Christmas pudding was full of plums; and the harper was happier
than a king as he sat by his own fireside to sing:

“O glory, glory, glory!

We bless God’s holy name;
For’t was to bring His wondrous love
The little Jesus came.

“And in His praise our songs we sing,

And in His name we pray:
God bless us all for Jesus’ sake,
This happy Christmas Day.”

A BOY’S VISIT TO SANTA CLAUS[3]

RICHARD THOMAS WYCHE

Once upon a time there was a little boy who talked a great deal about
Santa Claus. He talked to his father, his mother, his brother and sisters, until
it was Santa Claus at the breakfast table, Santa Claus at dinner, and Santa
Claus at supper. This little boy had been told that far away in the Northland
lived Santa Claus. He was sitting by the fire one day, watching the embers
glow, and seeing castles in the glowing embers. “There is Santa Claus’s
house,” he said, “the great building covered with snow. Why can’t I go to
see him?”
The little boy had worked and had saved some money. He took the
money and went down to the depot, bought a ticket, and before his father or
mother knew about it was gone to see Santa Claus. He traveled a long time
on the train, and by and by reached the end of the railroad. He could go no
farther on the train, for there was a great wide ocean, but people crossed the
ocean and so must the little boy, or at least a part of it, in order to reach
Santa Claus’s land. There was a great ship lying in port soon to sail over the
seas, and along with many people who went aboard the ship, went the little
boy. Soon every sail was spread and out from the port went the ship,
leaving far behind them the town.
The ship sailed and sailed a long time, and finally land came in sight.
They had reached an island lying somewhere far out in the Mid seas. Some
of the people went ashore, and so did the little boy. But what a funny land it
was to the little boy! All the people were little people. The grown men were
not taller than the little boy, and they rode little ponies that were not larger
than dogs. Then the little boy asked, “What land is this? Does Santa Claus
live here?” And they said, “No.

“This is the land that lies east of the sun

And west of the moon.
You have not come too soon.
Northward you must go,
To the land of ice and snow.”

And so one day the little boy found a ship that was going to sail to the
Northland, and in this ship he went. The ship sailed and sailed a long time
until it finally came to where the sea was all frozen over, to the land of
icebergs and snow fields. The ship could go no farther, so what do you
suppose the little boy did then? He was in the land of the reindeer, and over
the snow fields he went in search of Santa Claus.
One day, as he was traveling over the snow fields to find Santa Claus’s
house, he saw not far away what at first seemed to be a hill, but soon he saw
that it was not a hill, but a house covered with ice and snow. “That must be
Santa Claus’s house,” he said. Soon the little boy was standing in front of
the great building whose towers seemed to reach the sky. Up the shining
steps he went and soon he was standing in front of the door. The little boy
saw no doorbell and so he knocked on the door. No one answered, and then
louder he knocked again. Still no one answered. He began to feel afraid;
perhaps this was the house of a giant. If Santa Claus lived there, he might
be angry with him for coming, but once more he knocked. And then he
heard a noise far down at the other end of the hall. Some one was coming.
Then suddenly the latch went “click,” and the door stood wide open, and
who do you suppose was there? Santa Claus? No; a little boy with blue eyes
and a bright, sweet face. Then the little boy said, “Good morning. Does
Santa Claus live here?” And the other little boy said, “Yes. Come in, come
in. I am Santa Claus’s little boy.” He took him by the hand and said, “I am
very glad to see you.”
Then the two little boys walked down the long hallway, doors on this
side and doors on that, until they came to the last door on the left-hand side.
On this door Santa Claus’s little boy knocked, and a great voice said,
“Come in.” He opened the door and walked in, and who do you suppose
was there? Santa Claus? Yes, there was Santa Claus himself; a great, big, fat
man sitting by the fire, with long, white beard, blue eyes, and the merriest,
cheeriest face you ever saw. Then Santa Claus’s little boy said, “Father, here
is a little boy who has come to see you.” Santa Claus looked down over his
spectacles and said, “Well, how are you? I am mighty glad to see you. Yes,
yes, I know him. I have been to his house on many a night and filled up his
stocking. How are Elizabeth and Louise and Katherine?” Over on the other
side of the fireplace sat Mrs. Santa Claus. She was a grandmother-looking
woman, with white hair and gold-rimmed spectacles. She was sitting by the
fire knitting; she put her arms around the little boy and kissed him.
Then the two little boys sat down in front of the fire and talked together.
By and by, Santa Claus’s little boy said to the other little boy, “Don’t you
want to go over the building and see what we have in the different rooms?
This building has a thousand rooms.” And the little boy said, “Who-o-o-
oe.” And Santa Claus’s little boy said, “Yes, and something different in
every room.”
Then they went into a large room, and what do you suppose was in
there? Nothing but doll babies; some with long dresses and some with
short; some with black eyes and some with blue. Then into another room
they went, and it was full of toys, wagons and horses; another room was full
of story books; another room was a candy kitchen where Santa Claus made
candy; another room was a workshop where Santa Claus made toys for the
children. Then they went into a long, large room, the largest of them all, and
in this room were a great many tables. On these tables were suits, cloaks
and hats, and shoes and stockings for the children.
The little boy wanted to know what they did with so many clothes, and
Santa Claus’s little boy said, “We take these to the little children who have
no father or mother to make them clothes.” And so they went through all the
rooms of the great building, except one, which was away upstairs in the
corner. What was in this room no one would tell the little boy, nor would
they take him into the room. And the little boy wondered what was in the
room.
The little boy stayed at Santa Claus’s house several days, and he had a
splendid time. Some days the two little boys would slide down the hill on a
sled, some days they would hitch up the reindeer and go sleighing, some
days they would go into the candy kitchen and help Santa Claus make
candy, or into the workshop and help him make toys.
But one day something happened. Santa Claus came to the little boy and
said, “I am going away to-day for a little while; my wife and my little boy
are going with me. Now,” he said, “you can go with us or you can stay here
and keep house for us while we are gone.” The little boy thought to himself
that Santa Claus had been so good to him that he would stay and keep house
while Santa Claus was away. So he said he would stay, and then Santa
Claus gave him a great bunch of keys and said, “Now you can go into all
the rooms and play, but you must not go into that room upstairs in the
corner.” The little boy said, “All right,” and with that Santa Claus, his wife,
and his little boy went down the steps, got into the sleigh, wrapped
themselves up in furs, popped the whip, and away they went! The little boy
stood and watched them until they disappeared behind the snow hills.
Then he turned and went back into the house. He felt like a little man in
that great house all by himself. From room to room he went. He went into
the game room and rolled the balls. Some of the balls were so large that
they were as high as the little boy’s head. They were of rubber, and if you
would drop one from the top of the house it would bounce clear back to the
top. The little boy went into the candy kitchen and ate some of the candy.
He went into the workshop and worked on some toys, then into the library
and read some of the books, then into the parlor and banged on the piano.
But after a while, the little boy was tired, and he said, “I wish Santa
Claus would hurry and come back.” He was lonely. And so he thought he
would go up on the housetop and look out to see if he could see Santa Claus
coming home. Up the steps he went. When he reached the top, there was
another flight. Up these he went and still another flight; up, up, he went
until it seemed he had gone a thousand steps. But, finally, he came out on
top.
The little boy stood there with his hand on the railing and looked out, but
all he could see were the snow fields, white and glistening. Santa Claus was
not in sight. He could see the track over the snow that the sleigh had made,
but that was all.
Then down the steps he came, and it just happened that he came by the
room that Santa Claus told him he must not go into. As he passed, he
stopped in front of the door and said to himself, “I wonder what they have
in that room, and why they did not want me to go in?” He took hold of the
knob and gave it a turn, but the door was locked. Then he shut one eye and
peeped through the keyhole, but he could see nothing; it was all dark. Then
he put his mouth at the keyhole and blew through it, but he could hear
nothing. Then he put his nose there and smelled, but he could smell nothing.
“I wonder what they have in the room!” he said. “I believe I will see just for
fun which one of these keys will fit in the lock.”
The little boy had in his hand the great bunch of keys. He tried one key
and that would not fit, then he tried another and another and another, and
kept on until he came to the last key. “Now,” he said to himself, “if this key
does not fit I am going.” He tried it, and it was the only key on the bunch
that would fit. “Now,” he said, “I shall not go into the room, but I will just
turn the key and see if it will unlock the lock. It may fit in the lock and then
not unlock the lock.” He turned the key slowly and the latch went “click,
click,” and the door flew wide open. What do you suppose was in the room?
It was all dark; the little boy could see nothing. He had his hand on the knob
and it seemed to him that his hand was caught between the knob and key,
and somehow, as the door opened, it pulled him in. When he stepped into
the room, he felt a breeze blowing and, more than that, as he stepped down
he found the room did not have any bottom; just a dark hole.
 Well, as the little boy stepped over into the room, he felt himself falling,
away down, down, down yonder. He shut his eyes, expecting every moment
to strike something and be killed. But, before he did, some one caught him
by the shoulders and shook him and said, “Wake up! Wake up!” He opened
his eyes, and where do you suppose the little boy was? At home. It was
Christmas morning, and his father was calling him to get up. The sun was
shining across his little bed. He looked toward the fireplace, and there all
the stockings were hanging full. The little boy had been to see Santa Claus,
but he went by that wonderful way we call “Dreamland.”

THE CHRISTMAS KINGS

RUTH SAWYER

When the Christ Child was born in Bethlehem of Judea, long years ago,
three kings rode out of the East on their camels bearing gifts to him. They
followed the Star, until at last they came to the manger where he lay—a
little, newborn baby. Kneeling down, they put their gifts beside him: gold,
frankincense, and myrrh; they kissed the hem of the little, white mantle that
he wore, and blessed him. Then the kings rode away to the East again; but
before ever they went they whispered a promise to the Christ Child.
And the promise? You shall hear it as the kings gave it to the Christ
Child, long years ago.
“As long as there be children on the earth, on every Christmas Eve we
three kings shall ride on camels—even as we rode to thee this night; and
even as we bore thee gifts so shall we bear gifts to every child in memory of
thee, thou holy Babe of Bethlehem.”
In Spain they have remembered what the Christmas kings promised; and
when Christmas Eve comes, each child puts his sapatico—his little shoe—
between the gratings of the window that they may know a child is in that
house, and leave a gift.
Often the shoe is filled with grass for the camels; and a plate of dates and
figs is left beside it; for the children know the kings have far to go and may
be hungry.
At day’s end bands of children march out of the city gates—going to
meet the kings. But always it grows dark before they come. The children
are afraid upon the lonely road and hurry back to their homes; where the
good madres hear them say one prayer to the Nene Jesu, as they call the
Christ Child, and then put them to bed to dream of the Christmas kings.

Long, long ago, there lived in Spain, in the crowded part of a great city,
an old woman called Doña Josefa. The street in which she lived was little
and narrow; so narrow that if you leaned out of the window of Doña
Josefa’s house you could touch with your fingertips the house across the
way; and when you looked above your head the sky seemed but a string of
blue—tying the houses all together. The sun never found its way into this
little street.
The people who lived here were very poor, as you may guess; Doña
Josefa was poor, likewise. But in one thing she was very rich; she knew
more stories than there were feast days in the year—and that is a great
many. Whenever there came a moment free from work; when Doña Josefa
had no water to fetch from the public well, nor gold to stitch upon the altar
cloth for the Church of Santa Maria del Rosario; then she would run out of
her house into the street and call:
“Niños, niñas, come quickly! Here is a story waiting for you.”
And the children would come flying—like the gray palomas when corn
is thrown for them in the Plaza. Ah, how many children there were in that
little street! There were José and Miguel, and the niños of Enrique, the
cobbler,—Alfredito and Juana and Esperanza,—and the little twin sisters of
Pancho, the peddler; and Angela, Maria Teresa, Pedro, Edita, and many
more. Last of all there were Manuel and Rosita. They had no father; and
their mother was a lavandera who stood all day on the banks of the river
outside the city, washing clothes.
When Doña Josefa had called the children from all the doorways and the
dark corners, she would sit down in the middle of the street and gather them
about her. This was safe, because the street was far too narrow to allow a
horse or wagon to pass through. Sometimes a donkey would slowly pick its
way along, or a stupid goat come searching for things to eat; but that was
all.
It happened on the day before Christmas that Doña Josefa had finished
her work, and sat as usual with the children about her.
 “To-day you shall have a Christmas story,” she said; and then she told
them of the three kings and the promise they had made the Christ Child.
“And is it so—do the kings bring presents to the children now?” Miguel
asked.
Doña Josefa nodded her head: “Yes.”
“Then why have they never left us one? The three kings never pass this
street on Christmas Eve; why is it, Doña?”
“Perhaps it is because we have no shoes to hold their gifts,” said Angela.
And this is true. The poor children of Spain go barefooted; and often
never have a pair of shoes till they grow up.
Manuel had listened silently to the others; but now he pulled the sleeve
of Doña Josefa’s gown with coaxing fingers: “I know why it is the kings
bring no gifts to us. See—the street—it is too small, their camels could not
pass between the doorsteps here. The kings must ride where the streets are
broad and smooth and clean; where their long mantles will not be soiled and
torn, and the camels will not stumble. It is the children in the great streets—
the children of the rich—who find presents in their sapaticos on Christmas
morning. Is it not so, Doña Josefa?”
And Miguel cried: “Does Manuel speak true; is it only the children of
the rich?”
“Ah, chiquito mio, it should not be so! When the promise was given to
the Nene Jesu, there in Bethlehem, they said, ‘to every child,’—yes, every
little child.”
“But it is not strange they should forget us here,” Manuel insisted. “The
little street is hidden in the shadow of the great ones.”
Then Rosita spoke, clasping her hands together with great eagerness: “I
know; it is because we have no shoes, that is why the kings never stop.
Perhaps Enrique would lend us the shoes he is mending—just for one night.
If we had shoes the kings would surely see that there are little children in
the street, and leave a gift for each of us. Come, let us ask Enrique!”
“Madre de Dios, it is a blessed thought!” cried all; and like the flock of
gray palomas they swept down the street to the farthest end, where Enrique
hammered and stitched away all day on the shoes of the rich children.
Manuel stayed behind with Doña Josefa. When the last pair of little
brown feet had disappeared inside the sapateria he said softly:
 “If some one could go out and meet the kings—to tell them of this little
street, and how the niños here have never had a Christmas gift, do you not
think they might ride hither to-night?”
Doña Josefa shook her head doubtfully. “If that were possible,—but
never have I heard of any one who met the kings on Christmas Eve.”
All day in the city people hurried to and fro. In the great streets flags
waved from the housetops; and wreaths of laurel, or garlands of heliotrope
and mariposa hung above the open doorways and in the windows.
Sweetmeat sellers were crying their wares; and the Keeper-of-the-City
lighted flaming torches to hang upon the gates and city walls. Everywhere
was merrymaking and gladness; for not only was this Christmas Eve, but
the King of Spain was coming to keep his holiday within the city. Some
whispered that he was riding from the north, and with him rode his cousins,
the kings of France and Lombardy; and with them were a great following of
nobles, knights, and minstrels. Others said, the kings rode all alone—it was
their wish.
As the sun was turning the cathedral spires to shafts of gold, bands of
children, hand in hand, marched out of the city. They took the road that led
toward the setting sun, thinking it was the East; and said among themselves:
“See, yonder is the way the kings will ride.”
“I have brought a basket of figs,” cried one.
“I have dates in a new panuela,” cried another.
“And I,” cried a third, “I have brought a sack of sweet limes, they are so
cooling.”
Thus each in turn showed some small gift that he was bringing for the
kings. And while they chatted together, one child began to sing the sweet
Nativity Hymn. In a moment others joined until the still night air rang with
their happy voices.
 “Unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Gift is given.
Hail with holiness the morn,
Kneel before the Prince of Heaven.
Blessed be this Day of Birth,
God hath given his Son to earth.
Jesu, Jesu, Nene Jesu,
Hallelujah!”

Behind the little hills the sun went down leaving a million sparks of light
upon the road.
“Yonder come the kings!” the children cried. “See, the splendor of their
shining crowns and how the jewels sparkle on their mantles! They may be
angry if they find us out so late; come, let us run home before they see us.”
The children turned. Back to the city gates they ran; back to their homes,
to the good madres watching for them and their own white beds ready for
them.
But one they left behind them on the road: a little, bare-limbed boy
whose name was Manuel. He watched until the children had disappeared
within the gates, and then he turned again toward the setting sun.
“I have no gift for the kings,” he thought, “but there is fresh, green grass
beside the way, that I can gather for the camels.”
He stopped; pulled his hands full, and stuffed it in the front of the little
blue vestido that he wore. He followed the road for a long way until heavy
sleep came to his eyes.
“How still it is upon the road! God has blown out his light and soon it
will be dark. I wish I were with the others, safe within the city; for the dark
is full of fearsome things when one is all alone.... Mamita will be coming
home soon and bringing supper for Rosita and me. Perhaps, to-night, there
will be an almond dulce or pan de gloria,—perhaps.... I wonder will Rosita
not forget the little prayer I told her to be always saying. My feet hurt with
the many stones; the night wind blows cold; I am weary, and my feet
stumble with me.... Oh, Nene Jesu, listen! I also make the prayer: ‘Send the
three kings before Manuel is too weary and afraid!’ ”
A few more steps he took upon the road; and then, as a reed is blown
down by the wind, Manuel swayed, unknowingly for a moment, and slowly
sank upon the ground, fast asleep.
How long he slept, I cannot tell you; but a hand on his shoulder wakened
him. Quickly he opened his eyes, wondering, and saw—yes, he saw the
three kings! Tall and splendid they looked in the starlight; their mantles
shimmered with myriad gems. One stood above Manuel, asking what he did
upon the road at that late hour.
He rose to his feet—thrusting his hand inside the shirt for the grass he
had gathered: “It is for the camels, señor; I have no other gift. But you—
you ride horses this Christmas Eve!”
“Yes, we ride horses; what is that to you?”
“Pardon, señores, nothing. The three kings can ride horses if they wish;
only—we were told you rode on camels from the East.”
“What does the child want?” The voice was kind but it sounded
impatient; as though the one who spoke had work waiting to be done, and
was anxious to be about it.
Manuel heard and felt all this, wondering, “What if there is not time for
them to come, or gifts enough!” He laid an eager, pleading hand upon one
king’s mantle. “I can hold the horses for you if you will come this once. It is
a little street and hard to find, señores; I thought, perhaps, you would leave
a present—just one little present—for the children there. You told the Christ
Child you would give to every child, don’t you remember? There are many
of us, señores, who have never had a gift—a Christmas gift.”
“Do you know who we are?”
Manuel answered joyfully: “Oh, yes, Excelencias, you are the Three
Christmas Kings, riding from Bethlehem. Will you come with me?”
The kings spoke with one accord: “Verily, we will.”
One lifted Manuel on his horse; and silently they rode into the city. The
Keeper slumbered at the gates; the streets were empty. On, past the houses
that were garlanded they went unseen, and on through the great streets; until
they came to the little street at last. The kings dismounted. They gave their
bridles into Manuel’s hand; and then, gathering up their precious mantles of
silk and rich brocade, they passed down the little street. With eyes that
scarce believed what they saw, Manuel watched them go from house to
house; saw them stop and feel for the shoes between the gratings—the
shoes loaned by Enrique the cobbler; and saw them fill each one with
shining goldpieces.
In the morning Manuel told the story to the children as they went to
spend one golden doblón for toys and candy and sugared cakes. And a gift
they bought for Doña Josefa, too: a little figure of the Holy Mother with the
Christ Child in her arms.
And so, the promise made in Bethlehem was made again, and to a little
child; and it was kept. For many, many years—long after Manuel was
grown and had niños of his own—the kings remembered the little street,
and brought their gifts there every Christmas Eve.

THE CHRISTMAS CAKE[4]

MAUD LINDSAY

It was a joyful day for the McMulligan children when Mrs. McMulligan
made the Christmas cake. There were raisins to seed and eggs to beat, and
pans to scrape, and every one of the children, from the oldest to the
youngest, helped to stir the batter when the good things were mixed
together.
“Oh, mix it, and stir it, and stir it and taste;
For ev’rything’s in it, and nothing to waste;
And ev’ry one’s helped—even Baby—to make
The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake,”

said Mrs. McMulligan, as she poured the batter into the cake pan.
The Baker who lived at the corner was to bake the Christmas cake, so
Joseph, the oldest boy, made haste to carry it to him. All the other children
followed him, and together they went, oh, so carefully, out of the front door,
down the sidewalk, straight to the shop where the Baker was waiting for
them.
The Baker’s face was so round and so jolly that the McMulligan children
thought he must look like Santa Claus. He could bake the whitest bread and
the lightest cake, and as soon as the children spied him they began to call:
 “The cake is all ready! ’T is here in the pan;
Now bake it, good Baker, as fast as you can”;

“No, no,” said the Baker, “ ’T would be a mistake

To hurry in baking the Christmas cake.
I’ll not bake it fast, and I’ll not bake it slow;
My little round clock on the wall there will show
How long I must watch and how long I must bake
The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake.”

The little round clock hung on the wall above the oven. Its face was so
bright, and its tick was so merry, and it was busy night and day telling the
Baker when to sleep and when to eat and when to do his baking. When the
McMulligan children looked at it, it was just striking ten, and it seemed to
them very plainly to say:

“ ’T is just the right time for the Baker to bake

The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake.”

The oven was ready, and the Baker made haste to put the cake in.

“Ho, ho,” he cried gayly, “now isn’t this fun?

’T is ten o’ the clock, and the baking’s begun,
And ‘tickity, tickity,’ when it strikes one,
If nothing should hinder the cake will be done.”

Then the McMulligan children ran home to tell their mother what he had
said, and the Baker went on with his work. It was the day before Christmas,
and a great many people came to his shop to buy pies and cakes, but no
matter how busy he was waiting on them, he never forgot the McMulligans’
cake, and every time he looked at the clock, it reminded him to peep into
the oven.
So well did he watch it, and so carefully did he bake it, that the cake was
done on the stroke of one, just as he had promised, and he had scarcely
taken it out of the oven when the shop door flew open; and in came the
McMulligan children, every one of them saying: