Deeno (hurries in). Yes, sir; I’m coming, sir.
Santa. Why are you sheltering these dolls again this year? Is it the wind?
Deeno. No, indeed, sir. The wind wouldn’t hurt ’em, sir. It’s the birds, sir.
Santa. Birds! I never heard of such a thing. Birds injure them when they have grown to that size?
Deeno. Oh, yes, indeed, sir. Why, they spoiled two long-rows of ’em last week, just after I transplanted ’em, sir.
Santa. How spoil them?
Deeno. Pick their eyes out, sir. That’s how they spoil ’em. Oh, yes, sir.
Santa. Let’s see them. (They lift off the netting.) Well, these are beauties, Deeno. They certainly are beauties. Any of ’em talk?
Deeno. This one, sir. (They wind her up. She says “Papa” and “Mamma.”)