Good dame, I ask not money: if you please,
A simple crust my hunger to appease.
O. W. Good gracious! Starving! Children, do you hear?
The old man's hungry: quickly disappear!
(Children scamper behind shoe.)
Santa. She drives them in. To me 'tis very clear
Old Santa fails to find a welcome here.
O. W. We're very poor, have fasted many a day,
Yet from our door ne'er drove the poor away.
Song; air, "Balm of Gilead," by the Children, who march in as before, carrying sticks, on which are stuck apples, potatoes, crusts of bread, turnip, carrot, "beat," &c. They move around the stage, singing as they pass Santa; the last time, pitch their potatoes, &c., into his tin kitchen. He stands L. of stage; Old Woman, R.