‘My legs grow stiff when I lie on the floor,’ complained the Jumping Jack, with an injured look. ‘I can’t jump so well. Could you?’
‘No,’ murmured the Little Brown Boy, hanging his head and almost putting his finger in his mouth, but not quite.
‘Oh, what a crick I have in my neck!’ said the Jack-in-the-Box, making a comical face, ‘unless I am put in my box with the cover fastened down tight.’
And the Jack-in-the-Box crouched down and then gave a mighty spring into the air as if to show that he had no crick in his neck at the present time.
As for Mother Goose on the picture-book, she shook her finger at the Little Brown Boy, but she forgave him with a smile, as did all the toys, when he promised them solemnly, just as he had promised Santa Claus, that he would put his toys neatly away every night.
‘I won’t forget,’ said the Little Brown Boy. ‘I promise.’
The Brownies were so happy when they heard this that they said, ‘Let’s have a feast.’
So sitting round the fire, with Santa Claus looking on, they all roasted chestnuts and popped corn, the Little Brown Boy too. And they ate and they ate and they ate until they couldn’t eat any more.
Never before, so he thought, had the Little Brown Boy had such a good time. But at last it was the Brownies’ bed-time, and the Little Brown Boy on his leaf was whirled swiftly and safely home.
When he woke in the morning the first thing he did was to pick up all his toys and put them neatly away. And once in their proper places, the toys all gave a sigh of relief and fell fast asleep, they were so worn out from lying on the floor.