“You must know, children,” said Polly, most impressively, “that there was to be a Christmas at the Big House.”

“Christmas!” Each of the three younger Peppers, “the children,” as Polly and Ben called them, set up a shout at the magic word. Ben set his teeth together hard, and listened. No one of them had ever seen a Christmas, or knew in the least what it was like, only from what Jasper had told them. And now Polly was to draw from her imagination, and give them a story-Christmas. No wonder at the babel that ensued.

“The Big House,” began Polly, “had ever and ever so many windows and doors to it, and it set back from the street; and there was a road up for the carriages, and another for folks to walk up—oh, and there were lots of children that belonged to the house, as many as we are,” and Polly glanced around on the bunch of little Peppers. “Well, you know the Big House had always had a Christmas every year whenever it came around; they had hung up their stockings and had trees, just like what Jasper told us of; and all sorts of nice things they’d tried time and again, so what to do this Christmas, why, none of them could think. At last Jenny, she was the biggest girl, proposed that each child should write out what he or she wanted to do most of all, and not let any one else see what was written, but fold the paper, and tuck it into Grandpapa’s white hat in the hall. Grandpapa always wore a tall white hat whenever he went out, and when he was at home the hat stood on its head on the hall-table. And no one was ever allowed to touch that hat. So the children knew it would be a perfectly safe place to drop the papers in; and then, when all were in, even the baby’s, because Jenny would write hers for Mehitable, that was the baby’s name, why Grandpapa would take the hat, and turn out all the papers and read them, and decide what they better do in order to keep Christmas. Well, every single child in the Big House had written on his paper, and put it carefully into Grandpapa’s big white hat, and Grandpapa had taken out all the papers; the children had seen him as they peeked out of the door into the hall, and then he went away into another room and shut himself in.

“‘Children,’ he said, as at last, after what seemed to them a perfect age, he opened his door and came out, ‘we will have a tree this Christmas’; then he laughed, and held up seven papers—for you must know that besides the five children who always and every day lived at the Big House, there were two cousins, a girl and a boy, who were visiting there. ‘Every single paper,’ declared Grandpapa, as soon as he could speak, ‘had “Tree” written across it.’

“Well, you see by that, the children were not tired of Christmas trees, and as soon as Grandpapa told them that they were to have one, they were quite satisfied; although Jenny did say that if she had known every one else had chosen it, she would have written some other thing on her paper. But that didn’t make any difference now, and what they all had to do was to get ready; and the next day found the whole Big House in—oh, such a bustle! You would think they never had gotten a tree ready for Christmas in all their lives, there was such a fuss made. In the first place, Grandpapa had to go out and speak to a man to send up into the country and get him a big spruce-tree of good shape, not long and spindling, but stout and with a pointed tip; for the Big House was in the city, and of course no city trees could be cut down without folks being put into jail for it. And then everybody had to sit down and count up the money they had to spend; and if that wasn’t enough, they had to go to the bank and draw out some more; that is, the big folks did. And as the children were emptying their banks to see how much they had, Grandpapa came up behind them, and dropped a gold dollar into each one’s pile.”

It was impossible for the Five Little Peppers to keep still at that; but after they were quiet once more, Polly occasioned a fresh outburst by saying, “And then Grandmamma came up behind them, and she dropped a gold dollar on each pile too.”

“Polly,” cried little Davie, quite overcome, “did they have the tree too?”

“Yes, child,” said Polly; “and dear me, lots of other things too—a big Christmas dinner for one thing.”

“O Polly!” cried Joel, “turkey and pudding?”

“O my, yes—and candy, and raisins, and everything,” declared Polly; “with flowers in the middle of the table.”

“And roast beef and fixings?” Ben for the life of him could not help asking this.

“Yes—yes,” answered Polly. “You can’t think of anything that those children didn’t have at that Christmas dinner. But I must tell you about the tree. Well, you must see it took a great while to get everything ready; besides the things that Jenny and her cousin Mary, and Jenny’s brother Tom, and his cousin Edward were making, there were ever so many presents to buy; and to get these, all the children had to go to the shops with Grandmamma and Grandpapa and with each other, and then they had to hide them in all the out-of-the-way places they could, so that no one would find them until they were hanging on the Christmas tree. Oh, there was just everything to do; and the day before Christmas they all went to the shops for the last things that had been forgotten till then. It had snowed the night before; but it was sunny and cheery on this afternoon, and the walks had a little bit of snow, too hard to clear off nicely, and just enough to slide on, when the procession came out of the Big House, and turned down the street where the shops were. Everybody was out buying things. They had little bags of money dangling by their sides, only some held their purses in their hands, and kept looking at them to be sure they were there—but oh, the shops!”

“Tell about them,” begged all the other Peppers together. “Tell every single thing that was in them,” said Joel.

“Oh! I can’t begin to tell half that was in those shops,” laughed Polly merrily. “Mercy me, Joey, there was just everything there,—drums and tin soldiers, and little boxes that had music shut up in ’em, and dolls and jews-harps, and mittens and comforters, and trains of cars, and candy and flowers, and birds in cages, and oh, boots and shoes and books and oh—just everything!” Polly brought up suddenly with a gasp, being quite tired out.

“Go on,” urged Joel breathlessly.

“She can’t—there’s too many things,” said Ben. “Never mind going over them; just tell what the folks did, Polly.”

“Well, you see, the children each wanted Grandmamma and Grandpapa to help them choose things that all the others were not to see,” said Polly; “and Grandmamma and Grandpapa couldn’t go in seven places at once; so at last one of them, it was Tom, thought of a plan. It was to rush off himself and choose something, and then come running back down the shop-length; and when the others all saw him coming, they were to hurry away from Grandmamma and Grandpapa, and let him whisper what it was into their ears so nobody else heard, and ‘Would you?’ and then if Grandmamma and Grandpapa said ‘Yes,’ away Tom would rush and buy it, whatever it was. So all the other children tried the very same plan; and don’t you believe when they asked ‘Would you?’ Grandmamma and Grandpapa always said ‘Yes, my dear.’ They did every single time.

“Well, and finally they came out of the last shop, and the lamps in the street were being lighted, and the snow under their feet shone and creaked as they stepped, and every one of the children would have slidden, if their arms had not been full of bundles clear up to their chins. And Grandpapa laughed, and said they ought to have brought an express wagon; and Grandmamma said, ‘Oh, no! she wouldn’t have them sent home if she could, it was so nice to carry bundles.’ And everybody they met had big and little white paper parcels; and people knocked into each other, the streets were so crowded and the bundles stuck out so; and so finally they got home, and all the bundles were put in one big room where the tree was; and the door was locked, and Grandmamma put the key in her black silk pocket.

“Well, in the middle of the night when that big house was still as could be, all the children were asleep in their beds, something came softly over the roof, and stopped right by the chimney. There was just a little tinkle-tinkle, like the noise Mrs. Henderson’s cow makes when she shakes her bell; and then a paw-paw, just like one of Mr. Tisbett’s horses when he puts his foot down quietly, the gray one, I mean; and somebody said, ‘Hush, there, you’ll wake up the folks;’ and before anybody could think, up springs something, with a big pack on his back, and down he goes right through the chimney.”

“I know, I know!” screamed Joel and David together; “it’s Santy Claus!”

“It’s Santy!” hummed Phronsie dreadfully excited. “Oh! I want to see him, Polly, I do.”

“Perhaps you will sometime, Phronsie, if you are a good girl,” Polly made haste to answer. “But never mind now, Pet, I must go on with the story.”

“Well, it was Santa Claus who hopped down the chimney with his pack on his back, and Mrs. Santa Claus sat in the sleigh and held the reins. And he went into every room, and looked at each sleeping child; and he could tell by its face whether he had been good or bad.”

“And had they?” cried Joel eagerly. “Say, Polly, oh, make them be good! and did Santa Claus give them a lot of presents?”

“Most of the children had been good,” said Polly; “but there was one, and he had been bad, very bad indeed. He had eaten up his brother’s piece of cake; and then he had cried and screamed for more, and made everybody unhappy. And Santa Claus stood over his bed and said, ‘Poor child.’”

“And didn’t he get any presents from Santa Claus?” cried Joel. “Do let him have a little bit of a present, Polly;” and he stuck his fingers in his eyes, trying not to cry.

“Why, how could he?” cried Polly, “when he had been bad, Joey?”

“P’raps he—he won’t—won’t eat up his brother’s cake any more?” mumbled Joel, in great distress. Then he broke down, and laid his head in Polly’s lap, and burst out crying.

“Joel—Joel!” cried Polly, shaking his arm, “it’s only a story. Stop, Joey, you’ll make Phronsie cry.”

“But I want—want that boy to get a present from Santa Claus,” sobbed Joel, unable to be comforted.

“Do fix it some way,” whispered Ben over Polly’s shoulder. “Phronsie is beginning now.” And so she was. She had gravely insisted on getting into Polly’s lap; and now she hid her face on Polly’s arm, while soft little sobs shook her figure.

“Dear me!” cried Polly aghast, “was there ever such a time! Children, now stop, both of you. I’ll tell you what Santa Claus did. He looked at Teddy sleeping there; and he said to himself, ‘Now, I’ll give this boy something to make him good, even if he is bad now. And then, if he keeps on being bad, why, he must give it back to me next Christmas; and besides, I’ll have a rod for him.’ So he slipped a toy in Teddy’s stocking and”—

“And was he good?” cried Joel, thrusting his head up quickly, and wiping his wet face on Polly’s gown.

“Yes; oh, you can’t think how good Teddy was all through that year!” said Polly happily. “His mother called him ‘Little Comfort,’ and his father said he was a little man.”

“That’s nice,” said Joel, smiling through his tears.

Phronsie, when she saw that Joel was all right, and that no one else was crying, lifted up her head from Polly’s arm, and laughed gleefully. So on Polly ran with the story.

“Well, and after Santa Claus had gone, for you know he had so many other children to go to see, and it was pink all over the sky, and the children were out of bed; why, it was the hardest thing to keep them out of that room where the tree was. And that day, oh, it was the very longest in all the days of the year! But at last it was night; and then the candles on the tree were all lighted, oh! I guess there were two hundred of them; and they gleamed out such a sparkling brightness, just like little stars, and”—

“Two hundred candles, Polly!” cried every one.

“Yes,” said Polly; “I surely believe there were two hundred candles, all lighted and winking away on that beautiful tree; and somebody, the children’s mother I believe, played on the piano, and everybody marched in line, and the big door was thrown open, and there, with its tip almost to the top of the room, was the most beautiful tree; and every branch was crowded with presents, and everybody got what was most wanted, and there were flowers everywhere. Oh! and a little bird sang—they’d put the cage at the bottom of the tree, because it was too heavy for the branches; and there sat Dicky-bird, his black eyes as big as could be, and he was stretching his throat and singing at the top of his voice. And then everybody took hold of hands, and danced around and around that most beautiful tree a whole hour I guess, and Santa Claus all the while was peeking in at the window. You see, he goes around the next night as soon as it gets dark, to see how the children like his presents. O children,” and Polly glanced out of the window, “if here doesn’t come Mrs. Beebe!”