The little Marionette looked doubtful.
“Before I attempt anything of the sort, I shall have to consult Father Christmas—the well-known and much-esteemed patriarch. As he is the Head of our Society, I should like to do nothing without his advice and sanction.”
The little girl sighed anxiously.
“I do hope he’ll say ‘yes’,” she said. “I want so much to hear stories of toys told by a toy.”
“I’ll do my best to please you,” said the little Marionette. “Come here at the same time to-morrow,—by yourself, for I can only speak before one Mortal at a time,—and I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “Please give my best love to Father Christmas; and tell him if he says ‘yes’ I will see that Auntie puts him at the very top of the Christmas tree.”
She turned to go, then paused and came back.
“I should just like to ask you one thing before I go,” she said. “Don’t you and your partner enjoy dancing together?”
The pink cheeks of the little lady seemed to grow a little pinker.
“Perhaps we do,” she replied.