Just at that minute, the first little dwarf caught sight of the twenty-five Babies with their noses still flattened against the windowpanes, and he cried, “Excuse me, but I must have one of those Babies.”
“Oh! oh! oh!” cried the Ink-Bottle Mamma. “They are not for sale. You cannot have one of my Babies.”
Then she shut the door quickly and left the two little dwarfs standing on the doorstep.
“I want one of the Babies!” howled the first little dwarf.
The second little dwarf took him by the arm and led him down the walk back to their little sleigh.
“I wonder if they live in the deep woods,” said Polly.
“I wonder where they were going,” said Molly.
The Ink-Bottle Mamma went and kissed every one of her Babies.
She said, “They cannot have any of my Babies. I cannot spare one of you!”
The old clock sang a new song. It sounded like this: