"Oh, I'll go!" said Flop Ear, and he laid aside his book, and got ready to go to the store. It was getting nearer and nearer to Christmas every day, and, though the piggie boys hadn't seen Santa Claus himself since that one time in the woods, they had seen a lot of people dressed up like him.

You know jolly old St. Nicholas lets folks do that so he won't be bothered so much when he is so busy. He has so much to do, arranging about the presents that are to go in the stockings and down the chimneys, that if he was interfered with, or talked to too much, he'd never get done.

So he allows a lot of make-believe Santa Clauses to go around the streets and in stores, making the children as happy as they can. But they are not the real ones, only make-believes, though some of them are very nice. Then the real Santa Claus has his time to himself.

And Floppy and Curly were not a bit sad that they had given up their two chief toys, as I told you in the story last night, to the poor boy and the lame boy.

Well, in a little while, not so very long, Flop Ear got to the store, and he bought the cake of chocolate for his mother.

"And here is something for yourself," said the store man to the piggie boy, and he gave him a cookie, with caraway seeds and little candies on the top.

Then Flop Ear was glad he had gone to the store, and he was walking along, nibbling on the cookie, and saving a bit for his brother and Baby Pinky, his sister, when, all at once he heard a voice say:

"Here, little piggie boy, I want you!"

He looked all around, thinking it might be the fuzzy wolf or the bad skillery-scalery alligator, but all he saw was good kind Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy.

"Oh, I beg your pardon for thinking you were some one else," said Flop Ear. "I took you for a wolf. What can I do for you?"

"I have dropped my ball of yarn, from which I was knitting a pair of mittens for Sammie Littletail," said the kind muskrat. "The ball dropped in the dirt and I can't find it. I wonder if you could?"

So Flop Ear hurried over to the rabbit house, where Nurse Jane lived; she was the only one at home that day. And, by rooting around in the dirt with his rubbery-ubbery nose, Flop Ear soon found the ball of yarn.

"Oh, how smart you are!" exclaimed Nurse Jane. "And, as a little present to you I am going to give you a pair of stockings that I knitted myself. You can hang them up for Santa Claus on Christmas."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Flop Ear, as he took the stockings, which were very big. Far too big they were for him, but he was too polite to say so. And he thought, in case he couldn't wear them, that it was all the better to have them big for Christmas, since Santa Claus could put so much more in them.

Then Flop Ear, with the stockings, and the cake of chocolate, having helped Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, started for home. And on the way he passed a place where there were a lot of dried leaves, and he thought to himself:

"I'll fill one of the stockings with dried leaves and take them home. They will make a good bed for Baby Pinky's doll," and so he did fill one of the big stockings with leaves.

Then he went on a little further, carrying the one empty stocking and the one filled with leaves, which was almost as large as Flop Ear himself.

All of a sudden, as the piggie boy was going along, he came to a hole in the ground, and while he was wondering who lived there, all at once out popped a big fox, with a tail as large as a dusting brush.

"This is where I get you!" cried the fox, and he made a spring for the piggie boy. But Flop Ear was too quick for him, and away he sprang, with the big-tailed creature after him.

"Stop! Stop! Wait for me!" cried the fox.

"I can't—I haven't time," answered Flop, and on he went, faster than before. But a fox is a good racer, and soon he was almost up to the piggie. Just then Flop Ear dashed behind a big log, and there he found a little mouse sitting.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" asked the mouse.

"Because the fox is after me," replied Flop Ear, "and he is right behind me, ready to grab me."

"Squeak!" cried the mouse. "The only way to get clear from a fox is to fool him. Now what have you there besides the cake of chocolate?" asked the mouse, for he could see that plainly enough.

"A stocking full of leaves," answered Flop, "and one empty. Also part of a cookie."

"Very well," spoke the mouse. "Give me the cookie, and I will tell you how to fool the fox."

Well, Flop Ear did not want to give away his cookie, but he thought it was better to do that than to be eaten himself, so he gave the sweet little cake to the mouse, who said:

"Now, when the fox comes up here, just toss out over the log the stocking filled with leaves. The fox will think it is you, and he will carry it off to his den before he finds out his mistake. By that time you can run off home."

"But I will lose the Christmas stocking," said the piggie boy.

"It is better to lose one stocking than your life," said the mouse. "Besides, one of those stockings is big enough for any piggie boy for Christmas."

Then Flop Ear did as he was told. Just as the fox came running along, over the log the piggie boy tossed the stocking filled with leaves. The fuzzy creature grabbed it, crying out:

"Ah, this is the time I have Floppy!" and he imagined the pig was in the stocking. Without stopping to look, off to his den ran the fox with the stocking filled with leaves, and when he found out his mistake—oh wow! Wasn't he disappointed though!

But Floppy got safely home with the other stocking and the cake of chocolate and nothing else happened that night, except that Mrs. Twistytail sent the kind mouse a souvenir postal inviting him to come to the Christmas dinner.

And on the next page, provided the pussy cat draws a pail of pink lemonade from the white inkwell, and gives the rubber doll a drink, I'll tell you about the Twistytails' Christmas.



STORY XXXI

THE TWISTYTAILS' CHRISTMAS

"'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even—an automobile," read Curly Tail, the little piggie boy as he sat by the open fireplace in his house.

"Hold on!" cried his brother Flop Ear, "that isn't right, Curly. It should be not a mouse stirring—I know that poem."

"You're right, Floppy dear," admitted Curly Tail, "I read it wrong, but anyhow tomorrow is Christmas, and I was thinking so much about the toy automobile I want, that I guess I put one in the verse by mistake."

"All right, then I'll forgive you," said Floppy, who was sitting by the fireplace, stringing red, white and blue popcorn for Baby Pinky's rag doll's Christmas tree. "And I'm thinking of the toy steam engine I want," went on Flop Ear. "Oh! why doesn't Christmas hurry up and come?"

"That's what I want to know," put in Pinky, as she dressed her doll in her best dress, all ready for the holiday that was soon to be there.

Oh such goings on as there were in the Twistytail house! The holly with its red berries, and its prickly leaves, had been put in the windows and on the gas chandeliers had been hung the magical mystical mistletoe, with its white berries, and whoever stood under it would have to love everybody else.

And such good smells as there were coming from the kitchen! Pumpkin pies, and sour milk pudding, and apple cake, to say nothing of cornmeal lollypops with chocolate in the middle.

Mrs. Twistytail was as busy as anything, and as for Papa Twistytail, he had stayed home from the office on purpose to help decorate the house. Flop Ear and Curly Tail and Baby Pinky had written letters to Santa Claus the night before, and put them near the chimney. And, in the morning, would you believe it? those letters were gone! Yes, siree! not a trace of them left!

"Oh, goody!" cried Baby Pinky, "Santa Claus came in his reindeer sleigh and took them. Now we'll get just what we want."

Busier and busier became everything in the Twistytail house, and for that matter, there were busy times in the homes of Sammie and Susie Littletail, and Johnnie and Billy Bushytail, and the Wibblewobble duck children, and Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dogs. And as for Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old rabbit gentleman, who was quite rich since he found his fortune, he was so busy that he wore out two rheumatism crutches and Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy had to gnaw him another from a broom stick, instead of a corn stalk.

Then it began to snow. Oh, how the white flakes did swirl down out of the sky, blowing here and there like feathers. They piled up in drifts, and the animal children raced through them, kicking their feet about, tossing the white flakes up in the air, falling down in the drifts and making snowballs. And the wind came down the chimney like a fairy blowing a blast on a trumpet. Oh, it was the most jolly time of all the year! Uncle Wiggily said to himself, and he ought to know, if anybody does.

"You must go to bed early this night, children," said Mrs. Twistytail after supper. "The sooner you are asleep the sooner will it be Christmas."

"We will," said Curly Tail and Flop Ear and Baby Pinky, and off they trotted, after kissing their papa and mamma good-night, their little kinky tails flopping up and down like a lady's earrings when she runs after a trolley car.

Darker and darker it grew, and still the snowflakes kept coming down until all the ground was white and the roofs of houses, too, and the gate posts and the pump in the yard and everything—all white, ready for Christmas.

"Santa Claus' reindeer can easily pull the sleigh tonight," said Baby Pinky, as she looked from the window.

"Come, get back into bed!" called Curly Tail, "or Santa Claus won't come."

It was close to midnight, and still the snow came down. Outside the Twistytail house, just as outside of every other house where the children believe in Santa Claus, there was heard the ringing of bells. Then some one called:

"Whoa, there, reindeer!"

Then there was a noise in the chimney. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was a little bird crawling in to get warm. I don't know. Anyway, there was a noise, but the piggie children never woke up.

And then—and then—and then—in a little while it was Christmas morning. Somewhere a horn blew. Curly Tail heard it first, and, though it was scarcely daylight, he hopped out of bed.

"Wake up!" he cried, "Wake up everybody! It's Christmas! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" cried Flop Ear.

"Merry Christmas!" echoed Baby Pinky, and they all rushed downstairs.

"Mercy me!" exclaimed Mrs. Twistytail, rubbing her eyes. "Christmas so soon?"

"Yes, indeed!" shouted the children. "Oh, come and see what we have!"

Well, if I were to tell you all that happened at the Twistytail house that day, and about all the presents the children got, I'm sure I would be so long finishing that you would get hungry. But oh! everything was lovely!

"I've got my toy steam engine!" cried Flop Ear.

"And I have my toy auto!" said his brother.

"Oh, I see my new doll carriage—and a new doll in it—and look at her little Christmas tree!" cried Baby Pinky! "Oh, how lovely everything is!"

"Merry Christmas!" cried a voice at the door, and there stood Uncle Wiggily Longears, with a lot of bundles under his paws. "Santa Claus left these at my house by mistake," he said. "They belong here!" and there was a sled, and skates and a football, and a rocking horse, and a jumping jack, and I don't know what all.

"Merry Christmas!" cried another voice, and there stood Grandpa Squealer, the oldest pig of them all, and in his paws he had a lot of packages, and an extra one tied to his tail.

"Santa Claus left these at my house by mistake," he said, "they belong here."

And there was a blackboard and some building blocks, and a toy top, and toy horns, and a printing press and a phonograph, and oh! I don't know what all else besides.

"Look at my auto!" cried Curly Tail. "It goes like everything!" and he wound it up, and whizz! it went right at Uncle Wiggily.

"Hold on! Stop it! Don't let it bite me!" cried the old gentleman rabbit, and he tried to get out of the way, but he slipped on his broomstick crutch and fell down, and a piece of prickly holly fell on him and tickled him so that he sneezed.

"Look at my steam engine!" cried Flop Ear. And he started it going, and all of a sudden it darted right for Grandpa Squealer.

"Stop it! Hold it! Don't let it get me!" cried the old gentleman pig. But the engine went right at him and ran over his toe, but it didn't hurt much, because it was so little—I mean the engine was, not Grandpa Squealer's toe. But he slipped, too, and fell, and some mistletoe got tangled in his paws, but that only made everybody the more happy.

"Merry Christmas!" cried Uncle Wiggily.

"Merry Christmas!" grunted Grandpa Squealer, and Mr. and Mrs. Twistytail and the children. And from the outside the house all their animal friends shouted the happy words, and the horns blew, and the bells rang, and it was Christmas at last.

And so to one and all of you, children and big folks, I wish you a Merry Christmas, ten thousand million of them, and one more for good luck, and may you all be happy! And Uncle Wiggily says the same thing.

So now, as there are as many stories in this book as it can hold, even with pinching and squeezing, if I tell you any more they will have to be printed in another book. And the name of that will be: "Bedtime Stories; Toodle and Noodle Flat-tail."

The stories will be about some funny little beaver boys, and the queer things they did. Uncle Wiggily will be in that book, too, and so will many more of your animal friends, not forgetting Grandpa Whacker, the oldest beaver of them all.

So, until those stories are ready, which will be next season, I'll bid you all good-bye!

THE END