“Where are you hiding!” cried Santa Claus, and he looked under the bed, behind the chairs, and in the closets. Sancho Wing feared every moment he would be discovered, and tried to escape by flying out of the window. But his head had become caught in the long whiskers and he could go only the length of the beard in any direction. As he flew vigorously about the room trying to free his head Santa’s beard floated in the air like a living thing.
Too surprised to move or speak, Santa Claus could only gaze dumbly at his beard making serpentine movements in the air, or winding about his body as if to hide behind his back.
“What in the name of Popcorn is the matter with my beard!” cried Santa Claus, finding his voice at last.
Sancho Wing concluded that it was wiser to stop flying and let the beard settle back to its accustomed place, lest Santa Claus discover him. He was too hopelessly caught to escape by flying; but he was so well concealed by the whiskers that Santa Claus still failed to see him.
“Well, I give up!” said Santa Claus at last. “Wherever you are, you are well hidden. Did I understand you to say that you and your two friends had come to visit me? Where are the others?—since I can’t find you. Are they hiding too?”
“They are waiting at the door.”
“Squeaky, who is a voice with a pig’s body”