But Floppy got safely home with the other stocking and the cake of chocolate and nothing else happened that night, except that Mrs. Twistytail sent the kind mouse a souvenir postal inviting him to come to the Christmas dinner.
And on the next page, provided the pussy cat draws a pail of pink lemonade from the white inkwell, and gives the rubber doll a drink, I'll tell you about the Twistytails' Christmas.
STORY XXXI
THE TWISTYTAILS' CHRISTMAS
"'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even—an automobile," read Curly Tail, the little piggie boy as he sat by the open fireplace in his house.
"Hold on!" cried his brother Flop Ear, "that isn't right, Curly. It should be not a mouse stirring—I know that poem."
"You're right, Floppy dear," admitted Curly Tail, "I read it wrong, but anyhow tomorrow is Christmas, and I was thinking so much about the toy automobile I want, that I guess I put one in the verse by mistake."
"All right, then I'll forgive you," said Floppy, who was sitting by the fireplace, stringing red, white and blue popcorn for Baby Pinky's rag doll's Christmas tree. "And I'm thinking of the toy steam engine I want," went on Flop Ear. "Oh! why doesn't Christmas hurry up and come?"
"That's what I want to know," put in Pinky, as she dressed her doll in her best dress, all ready for the holiday that was soon to be there.
Oh such goings on as there were in the Twistytail house! The holly with its red berries, and its prickly leaves, had been put in the windows and on the gas chandeliers had been hung the magical mystical mistletoe, with its white berries, and whoever stood under it would have to love everybody else.