Chapter II

Pattie stood by to watch her spin. She asked more questions than Grandmother had time to answer.

“Will there be a pocket in my new dress,” she asked, “and buttons down the back?”

“And, oh, Grandmother! What color is it going to be?”

“I know,” said Brother Joe. He had just come in from the woods with some walnut bark.

“It will be the color of a—chestnut.”

“Brown, brown, brown!” cried Pattie.

Mother made a dye with the walnut bark. Sure enough, when she dipped the yarn into the dye it came out a beautiful brown just as Pattie had guessed.

Then Sister Rachel fastened the yarn in the loom and began to weave.

The treadle went up and the treadle went down with a click and a clack. Such a merry sound!

Away the shuttle went to carry the thread under and over, and in and out.

When the cloth was woven Sister Rachel took it out of the loom. Mother was all ready to begin the dress.

“Snip, snip, snip!” went her sharp scissors.

“Stitch, stitch, stitch!” flew her shining needle.

Long after Pattie was in bed and fast asleep that night, Mother was busy sewing.

Grandmother and Rachel helped, too, and the dress was ready the very next day.

It had pockets, two of them, bound with red.

It had buttons down the back like a row of red berries.

Jack Frost had come in the night and the cold winds had begun to blow. But Pattie did not care.

“I’m warm as toast in my new woolen dress,” said little Pattie.

MAUD LINDSAY (_Adapted_).

DECEMBER.

Sing we all merrily,
Christmas is here.
The day that we love best
Of days in the year.

Bring forth the holly,
The box and the bay,
Deck out our cottage,
For glad Christmas Day.
]

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day,
And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas Day in the morning.

And all the angels in heaven shall sing,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day,
And all the angels in heaven shall sing,
On Christmas Day in the morning.

And all the souls on earth shall sing,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day,
And all the souls on earth shall sing,
On Christmas Day in the morning.

OLD SONG.

THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS FEAST.

Far away across the sea, there is a very cold country.

The ground is covered with snow almost all the year, and the birds cannot get enough to eat.

So every Christmas the children are the birds’ Santa Claus.

In the summer the children go into the fields and gather grain for the birds.

The day before Christmas such a wonderful thing happens!

Over the snow the birds come from north, south, east, and west.

They sit upon the porch, upon the roof of the house, and sometimes look in at the windows.

“Here we are, little friends!” they seem to say.

On Christmas morning, a tall pole with a bunch of grain on the top is set before every door.

Then such a twittering is heard from the birds, and such merry shouts from the children!

It would be hard to tell which has the better time, the birds or the happy children.

Suggested by CELIA THAXTER’S Poem, “The Sparrows.”

PICCOLA.

Fred and May lived one winter in a country where the sun was always bright and warm.

What good times they had playing in the garden!

One day they saw a queer little girl watching them. She did not look like the little girls they played with at home.

She wore a long red dress. On her feet were little wooden shoes.

She said that her name was Piccola. She told them that she was alone all day, because her mother went out to work.

Fred and May asked her to come and play with them in the garden.

One day the children were talking about Santa Claus.

“Who is that?” asked Piccola.

“Why, Piccola!” said May. “Did you never hear of Christmas?”

“Yes,” said Piccola. “We go to church on Christmas Day, and hear beautiful singing.”

Then the children told her all about Santa Claus.

“Hang up your stocking on Christmas Eve,” said May. “He will come down the chimney and fill it with toys.”

Piccola could hardly wait to tell her mother about Santa Claus.

“I wonder what he will give me,” she said.

“Do not look for him this year, little daughter,” said her mother. “I shall be thankful if we have enough to eat.”

But Piccola knew that Santa Claus would not forget her.