Barbara. Yes, she must know. Father and Mother always see the good saint first, you know, and tell him whether we've been naughty or good. They always know whether he is coming or not.
Katrina. But he always does come to us.
Oscar. Brother Fritz, Mother says the good St. Nicholas loves to give presents to little children. Wouldn't he be sorry if there was a house anywhere in the world that he didn't know about?
Karl. Brother Fritz, couldn't we show him the way?
Fritz [claps him on the shoulder]. Well spoken, Karl, my man. We'll tell St. Nicholas all about it as soon as he comes to us, and then show him the way to Heinrich's little black hut.
Barbara. And if he shouldn't have enough to go around, he always brings us so much that we can spare some of our things for them.
Fritz. Yes, he puts enough for two trees on our tree. Come, Oscar and Karl, get hold of the rope! Barbara, you take Katrina's hand.
Barbara. Trot along in front, Jan! Come, then, let's get home as fast as we can.
Heinrich. All together now! Get up, horses, pull the load home! [Exeunt (R.), singing as before. Enter Friedel (L.), before the sound of their voices has died away, slowly and wearily. Limps to side and peers through the trees after the children, then to the back, then to the left again, like one who has lost his way. Stops in the center looking doubtfully after the children once more. Enter the woodcutter (L.), axe over his shoulder, whistling as he hurries home. Friedel silently holds out his cap, but the man shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head, and passes on. Friedel goes slowly to a tree and sits on a log or mound beside it. Blows on his fingers, tries to pull his rags more closely around him, and leans his head dejectedly on his hands. Lifts his head suddenly to watch Marta, who approaches (L.), hobbling under a bunch of fagots.]
Marta. Ach, my old bones! Ach, this heavy bundle! Will ever old Marta get home?