But at last the bell did ring. It was Anne Marie, her black eyes big and bright and her cheeks as red as the little scarlet frock she wore. Papa Durant had brought her, and had left in her arms a huge box which Anne Marie put into Grandmother’s hands with her very best curtsy and smile.
‘For the Party, for Noel,’ said Anne Marie.
It was a box of cakes, French Christmas cakes, covered with sugar frosting, pink and green and white, and on many of them appeared the words ‘Joyeux Noel,’ which was Anne Marie’s French way of saying ‘Merry Christmas.’
Then in came wee Ailie McNabb, warmly dressed not only in a blue coat that Patty had outgrown, but also in a neat little frock that had once belonged to Patty, it is true, but that fitted wee Ailie McNabb as if it had been made for her.
Straight up to Grandmother walked Ailie and stretched out a small foot clad in a glossy brown shoe.
‘They are fine and warm,’ said Ailie, just as if Grandmother knew all about them, as no doubt she did.
It was time then for the front-room door to be opened. And fortunately Father now came home from the office, for Patty felt that not even a Christmas Party would be quite perfect unless Father were there to enjoy it too.
So the front-room door was thrown open and in they went, first Anne Marie and Ailie and Patty, carrying Isabel, and then Grandmother and Mother and Father close behind.
The first thing they saw, that filled all one side of the room, was—well, can’t you guess? A Christmas Tree! A great, shining Christmas Tree that touched the ceiling of the room and spread out its branches far and wide on either hand. A great, shining Christmas Tree, covered with glittering balls and bells and chains, with beautiful stars and candles of every hue.
But, would you believe it, though it was by far the gayest, prettiest sight that Patty or Anne Marie or Ailie had ever looked upon, after the first glance the three little girls did not look at the Tree at all.