“O William!” said Mrs. Delight, sitting down on the gilt sofa beside her husband, “don’t you think we could get the Christmas tree ourselves?”
“Indeed we could! Put on your long coat and furs, and I will bring the car around, and we will find one.” Betsey spread out the soft white snow for the forest, and dressed Mr. Delight in his gray fox coat with its curly black collar. Then she put on Mrs. Delight’s long brown coat and fastened up her lovely ermine furs. “The little darling!” she said, kissing her, and settling both the little dolls in the automobile.
The car did make a fascinating rut in the snow, and when Betsey walked Mr. Delight over to the hemlock trees he left a print of each tiny footstep.
Whang! Whang! resounded his tiny axe. Finally the tree toppled over with a delightful thud,—it was only the very tip of Betsey’s real tree which stood down-stairs ready for lighting.
“O the sweet little tree!” cried Betsey, seizing it, and, I am sorry to say, leaving the little couple stranded in the forest.
“I’ll set it in one of my wooden circles that seam-binding comes on, and cover it with green crêpe paper.”
First she cleared all the furniture out of the little drawing-room and set up the tree. Then she began to wind her shining tinsel and paper chains around it, and hung on her dazzling, colored glass balls, blue and red, and green and gold. And then she hung presents by the dozen on it. A tiny rocking-horse and a sled, she had to place at the foot of the tree.
“You poor things!” she exclaimed at last, catching sight of Mr. Delight lying on his back in the snow. “You must come and get dressed in time for your own party.”
“I think, William,” began Mrs. Delight enthusiastically, “that I will wear my blue accordion-plaited crêpe-de-chine.”
“And I will wear my dress-suit,” said Mr. Delight, as Betsey slipped his tiny cuffs up his sleeves.