On Christmas Eve when fairy-tales come true!
Second Lob.
O wise the word! Come, brother; wake! [He pokes the First Lob with his broom.]
First Lob.
Let be!
I’m weary! [The Children now are heard, yawning and stretching. He starts up.] Eh? What’s this? That rowdy horde
Of heavy-footed Children, coming back
Like runaways deserting school, before
Dawn and the birds, from Sleep! O trespassers
Upon our ancient province of the night!