Mistress Longlane. The Christmas toys!
Dolly. Why, I thought Santa Claus brought them all.
Mistress Spinning. So he does, my dear. He takes them to the children, of course, but this is the garden where he comes to load his sleigh.
Mistress Longlane. You don't say!
Peggy [shaking her finger]. You never can see inside, but that garden is just full of toys. Oh, don't you wish we could peep in! [Both children run in search of holes or cracks, stretch their arms towards the top, and stand on tiptoe, vainly, finally coming back to listen to the conversation of their mothers.]
Mistress Spinning. Yes, the Christmas Monks have a wonderful garden with beds for rocking-horses, beds for dolls, beds for drums, and picture-books and skates and balls. They do say so, that is; of course, I've never seen the inside. And the seeds are just the tiniest bits of dolls and drums and balls, and the rest of it. So little that you can hardly see them at all.
Mistress Longlane. What do the Monks do?
Mistress Spinning. Why, they plant the seeds, and take care of the garden, and see that the toys are all ripe and ready for good old Santa Claus by Christmas time.
Peggy. And that's not all, Mother. They have turkey and plum pudding every day in the year! [Hugs herself.]