We looked and laughed, and laughed and looked. They raced about on the very edge of the crust as though they were playing Ring around a Rosy; then at a signal from the tall thin fellow they ran down the spiral column of the clock over to the hearth.
“We can have a Christmas dance right here,” cried the rosy-cheeked apple maid; at this joyful news they switched off their sashes.
The tall thin one fastened the ends to the top of an andiron, and there in the firelight we saw a dance, such as no one ever saw before. Round and round they danced, till the iron was bound with ribbon to its very base; then the little creatures threw themselves on the hearth.
“Let’s play school!” cried the tall thin Stick Doll, who seemed to be chairman for the occasion.
“Mercy, no!” cried another. “I don’t like school. I don’t want to learn things.”
“I said let’s play school. We don’t have to learn anything. It will be fun. We’ll each tell a story.”
“A story!” echoed the whole bunch.
“What kind of a story?”
“A true story.”
“We don’t know any,” they all sighed.