It was the Storyist bending over her. “Good morning,” she said. “It’s time to get up.”
The Child rubbed her eyes.
And you know, little Dear-My-Love, that she had been asleep all the while!
The Gift
You remember, little Dear-My-Love, how it feels just before Christmas. Well, it was that kind of a morning. Nearly everyone carried mysterious bundles, and Christmas sights and sounds were everywhere.
The Child was very happy. She and the Storyist were on their way to buy the Gift. She felt that she needed advice. She had been surprisingly meek and quiet the last few days.
“What made you give up your plan?” asked the Storyist. “Didn’t it suit you?”