It was night. Jan and Katrina and grandmother had had their supper. Katrina had helped grandmother wash the dishes. It was not time for bed.
“Let us sit down before the fire, Grandmother,” said Jan, “and you can tell us a story.”
“O yes, please, Grandmother,” cried little Katrina, and she ran to get grandmother’s big armchair with the red cushions.
Grandmother smiled and sat down in the chair. It had big, wide arms. Jan sat on one arm of the chair and Katrina sat on the other.
“What shall I tell you about?” asked grandmother.
“Tell us about St. Nicholas,” said Jan. “You know, Grandmother, it is nearly time for him to come.”
“Why, so it is,” said grandmother.
Then she began:
“Far, far away from here, in the forest of Christmas trees, lives an old man. He has white hair, a long white beard and the brightest eyes you ever saw. He wears a beautiful red suit, and it is trimmed with the whitest of fur. The name of this good old man is St. Nicholas. All the year long, in his forest of Christmas trees, St. Nicholas is busy making toys and sweetmeats for the good little boys and girls.”
“What toys does he make, Grandmother?” asked Katrina.
“O, little wooden dogs and horses and birds and pigs and chickens and dolls and doll-houses,” answered grandmother.
Then she went on with her story. “St. Nicholas has a beautiful big white horse.
“At Christmas time he takes the white horse from its stall. ‘Come, my horse,’ says St. Nicholas. ‘It is Christmas time once again, and you must take me all over the land to visit the little Dutch boys and girls.’ Then St. Nicholas calls his black servant. He lets him ride on a black horse and gives him two bags to carry. One bag is full of toys and goodies for the good children, and in the other bag is a switch with which to beat the bad children. All through the night St. Nicholas rides on his white horse.”
“The little Dutch children put their wooden shoes down by the fireplace. Near by, they put a basket of hay and carrots for the white horse of St. Nicholas.
“In the morning, when the good children get up, the hay and the carrots are gone, and the wooden shoes are full of toys and goodies.”
“What a nice story,” says Katrina.